LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OP 

CALIF'    -NIA 
SANTA  CRUZ 


THE   EAGLE'S   HEART 


[See  page  314 

DREW    REIN    AND    LOOKED    AT    THE    GREAT    RANGE    TO 
THE    SOUTHEAST 


THE 
EAGLE'S    HEART 


HAMLIN    GARLAND 

SUNSET    EDITION 


HARPER   &  BROTHERS 

NEW     YORK     AND     LONDON 


D 


COPYRIGHT.    19OO.    BY    HAML1N    GARLAND 


PS 

1732 
£3 


CONTENTS 


PART   I 

CHAPTER  PACK 

I. — HIS  YOUTH     .          .          .          .          .          .          .  .  I 

II. — HIS   LOVE   AFFAIRS II 

III. — THE  YOUNG  EAGLE   STRIKES  ....        23 

IV.— THE  TRIAL      .          .          .          .  .          .          .35 

V. — THE  EAGLE'S  EYES  GROW  DIM    .        .        .       .      51 
VI.— THE  CAGE  OPENS.        .      .."•'.        .        .       .      72 

VII. — ON   THE   WING 83 

VIII. — THE   UPWARD   TRAIL      ....  .  .         96 

IX. — WAR  ON  THE  CANNON  BALL       ....    123 

X.— THE  YOUNG  EAGLE  MOUNTS     .     .     .    .143 

XI.— ON  THE  ROUND-UP       .        .       ..        .       .        .    157 

PART   II 

XII.— THE  YOUNG  EAGLE  FLUTTERS  THE  DOVE-COTE  .      175 
XIII. — THE  YOUNG   EAGLE   DREAMS   OF   A   MATE     .  .      199 

XIV. — THE  YOUNG  EAGLE  RETURNS  TO  HIS  EYRIE       .    220 
PART   III 

XV.— THE   EAGLE   COMPLETES   HIS   CIRCLE      .  .  .233 

XVI. — AGAIN  ON  THE  ROUND-UP 250 

XVII.— MOSE  RETURNS  TO  WAGON  WHEEL     .  .  .265 

XVIII. — THE   EAGLE   GUARDS   THE   SHEEP.  .  .  .      283 

XIX.— THE  EAGLE   ADVENTURES  INTO  STRANGE  LANDS  .      316 

XX.— A   DARK   DAY   WITH   A   GLOWING   SUNSET      .  .      339 

XXI.— CONCLUSION 363 


THE   EAGLE'S    HEART 


PART    I 
CHAPTER    I 

HIS   YOUTH 

HAROLD  was  about  ten  years  of  age  when  his 
father,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Excell,  took  the  pastorate 
of  the  First  Church  in  Rock  River.  Many  of 
the  people  in  his  first  congregation  remarked 
upon  "  the  handsome  lad."  The  clear  brown 
of  his  face,  his  big  yellow-brown  eyes,  his  slen 
der  hands,  and  the  grace  of  his  movements  gave 
him  distinction  quite  aside  from  that  arising  from 
his  connection  with  the  minister. 

Rev.  John  Excell  was  a  personable  man  him 
self.  He  was  tall  and  broad  shouldered,  with 
abundant  brown  hair  and  beard,  and  a  winning 
smile.  His  eyes  were  dark  and  introspective, 
but  they  could  glow  like  sunlit  topaz,  or  grow 
dim  with  tears,  as  his  congregation  had  oppor 
tunity  to  observe  during  this  first  sermon — but 
they  were  essentially  sad  eyes. 

Mrs.  Excell,  a  colorless  little  woman  who  re- 
i 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

tained  only  the  dim  outline  of  her  girlhood's 
beauty,  sat  gracelessly  in  her  pew,  but  her  step 
daughter,  Maud,  by  her  side,  was  carrying  to 
early  maturity  a  dainty  grace  united  with  some 
thing  strong  and  fine  drawn  from  her  father. 
She  had  his  proud  lift  of  the  head. 

"  What  a  fine  family!  "  whispered  the  women 
from  pew  to  pew  under  cover  of  the  creaking 
fans. 

In  the  midst  of  the  first  sermon,  a  boy  seated 
in  front  of  Harold  gave  a  shrill  whoop  of  agony 
and  glared  back  at  the  minister's  son  with  dis 
torted  face,  and  only  the  prompt  action  on  the 
part  of  both  mothers  prevented  a  clamorous  en 
counter  over  the  pew.  Harold  had  stuck  the 
head  of  a  pin  in  the  toe  of  his  boot  and  jabbed 
his  neighbor  in  the  calf  of  the  leg.  It  was  an  old 
trick,  but  it  served  well. 

The  minister  did  not  interrupt  his  reading, 
but  a  deep  flush  of  hot  blood  arose  to  his  face, 
and  the  lids  of  his  eyes  dropped  to  shut  out 
the  searching  gaze  of  his  parishioners,  as  well 
as  to  close  in  a  red  glare  of  anger.  From  that 
moment  Harold  was  known  as  "  that  preacher's 
boy,"  the  intention  being  to  convey  by  signifi 
cant  inflections  and  a  meaning  smile  that  he  filled 
the  usual  description  of  a  minister's  graceless 
son. 

Harold  soon  became  renowned  in  his  own 

2 


His  Youth 

world.  He  had  no  hard-fought  battles,  though 
he  had  scores  of  quarrels,  for  he  scared  his  oppo 
nents  by  the  suddenness  and  the  intensity  of  his 
rage,  which  was  fairly  demoniacal  in  fury. 

"  You  touch  me  and  /'//  kill  you"  he  said 
in  a  low  voice  to  the  fat  boy  whose  leg  he  had 
jabbed,  and  his  bloodless  face  and  blazing  eyes 
caused  the  boy  to  leap  frenziedly  away.  He  car 
ried  a  big  knife,  his  playmates  discovered,  and 
no  one,  not  even  youths  grown  to  man's  stat 
ure,  cared  to  attempt  violence  with  him.  One 
lad,  struck  with  a  stone  from  his  cunning  right 
hand,  was  carried  home  in  a  carriage.  Another, 
being  thrown  by  one  convulsive  effort,  fell  upon 
his  arm,  breaking  it  at  the  elbow.  In  less  than 
a  week  every  boy  in  Rock  River  knew  some 
thing  of  Harry  Excell's  furious  temper,  and  had 
learned  that  it  was  safer  to  be  friend  than  enemy 
to  him. 

He  had  his  partisans,  too,  for  his  was  a 
singularly  attractive  nature  when  not  enraged. 
He  was  a  hearty,  buoyant  playmate,  and  a  good 
scholar  five  days  out  of  six,  but  he  demanded 
a  certain  consideration  at  all  times.  An  acci 
dental  harm  he  bore  easily,  but  an  intentional 
injury — that  was  flame  to  powder. 

The  teachers  in  the  public  school  each  had 
him  in  turn,  as  he  ran  rapidly  up  the  grades. 
They  all  admired  him  unreservedly,  but  most 

3 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

of  them  were  afraid  of  him,  so  that  he  received 
no  more  decisive  check  than  at  home.  He  was 
subject  to  no  will  but  his  own. 

The  principal  was  a  kind  and  scholarly  old 
man,  who  could  make  a  boy  cry  with  remorse 
and  shame  by  his  Christlike  gentleness,  and 
Harold  also  wept  in  his  presence,  but  that  did 
not  prevent  him  from  fairly  knocking  out  the 
brains  of  the  next  boy  who  annoyed  him.  In 
his  furious,  fickle  way  he  often  defended  his 
chums  or  smaller  boys,  so  that  it  was  not  easy 
to  condemn  him  entirely. 

There  were  rumors  from  the  first  Monday 
after  Harold's  pin-sticking  exploit  that  the  min 
ister  had  "  lively  sessions  "  with  his  boy.  The 
old  sexton  privately  declared  that  he  heard  muf 
fled  curses  and  shrieks  and  the  sound  of  blows 
rising  from  the  cellar  of  the  parsonage — but  this 
story  was  hushed  on  his  lips.  The  boy  admit 
tedly  needed  thrashing,  but  the  deacons  of  the 
church  would  rather  not  have  it  known  that  the 
minister  used  the  rod  himself. 

The  rumors  of  the  preacher's  stern  measures 
softened  the  judgment  of  some  of  the  towns 
people,  who  shifted  some  of  the  blame  of  the 
son  to  the  shoulders  of  the  sire.  Harry  called 
his  father  "  the  minister,"  and  seemed  to  have 
no  regard  for  him  beyond  a  certain  respect  for 
his  physical  strength.  When  boys  came  by  and 

4 


His  Youth 

raised  the  swimming  sign  he  replied,  "  Wait  till 
I  ask  '  the  minister.' '  This  was  considered 
"  queer  "  in  him. 

He  ignored  his  stepmother  completely,  but 
tormented  his  sister  Maud  in  a  thousand  impish 
ways.  He  disarranged  her  neatly  combed  hair. 
He  threw  mud  on  her  dress  and  put  carriage 
grease  on  her  white  stockings  on  picnic  day.  He 
called  her  "  chiny-thing,"  in  allusion  to  her 
pretty  round  cheeks  and  clear  complexion,  and 
yet  he  loved  her  and  would  instantly  fight  for 
her,  and  no  one  else  dared  tease  her  or  utter  a 
word  to  annoy  her.  She  was  fourteen  years  of 
age  when  Mr.  Excell  came  to  town,  and  at  six 
teen  considered  herself  a  young  lady.  As  suitors 
began  to  gather  about  her,  they  each  had  a  vig 
orous  trial  to  undergo  with  Harold;  it  was  in 
deed  equivalent  to  running  the  gantlet.  Maud 
was  always  in  terror  of  him  on  the  evenings 
when  she  had  callers. 

One  day  he  threw  a  handful  of  small  garter 
snakes  into  the  parlor  where  his  sister  sat  with 
young  Mr.  Norton.  Maud  sprang  to  a  chair 
screaming  wildly,  while  her  suitor  caught  the 
snakes  and  threw  them  from  the  window  just 
as  the  minister's  tall  form  darkened  the  door 
way. 

"  What  is  the  matter?  "  he  asked. 

Maud,  eager  to  shield  Harry,  said:  "Oh, 
5 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

nothing    much,    papa — only    one    of    Harry's 
jokes." 

"  Tell  me,"  said  the  minister  to  the  young 
man,  who,  with  a  painful  smile  on  his  face,  stam- 
meringly  replied: 

"  Harry  thought  he'd  scare  me,  that's  all.  It 
didn't  amount  to  much." 

"  I  insist  on  knowing  the  truth,  Mr.  Nor 
ton,"  the  minister  sternly  insisted. 

As  Norton  described  the  boy's  action,  Mr. 
Excell's  face  paled  and  his  lips  set  close.  His 
eyes  became  terrible  to  meet,  and  the  beaded 
sweat  of  his  furious  anger  stood  thick  on  his  face. 
"  Thank  you,"  he  said  with  ominous  calmness, 
and  turning  without  another  word,  went  to  his 
study. 

His  wife,  stealing  up,  found  the  door  locked 
and  her  husband  walking  the  floor  like  a  roused 
tiger.  White  and  shaking  with  a  sort  of  awe, 
Mrs.  Excell  ran  down  to  the  kitchen  where  Har 
old  crouched  and  said: 

"  Harold,  dear,  you'd  better  go  out  to  Mr. 
Burns'  right  away." 

Harold  understood  perfectly  what  she  meant 
and  fled.  For  hours  neither  Mrs.  Excell  nor 
Maud  spoke  above  a  whisper.  When  the  min 
ister  came  down  to  tea  he  made  no  comment  on 
Harry's  absence.  He  had  worn  out  his  white-hot 
rage,  but  was  not  yet  in  full  control  of  himself. 

6 


His  Youth 

He  remained  silent,  and  kept  his  eyes  on  his 
plate  during  the  meal. 

The  last  time  he  had  punished  Harold  the 
scene  narrowly  escaped  a  tragic  ending.  When 
the  struggle  ended  Harold  lay  on  the  floor, 
choked  into  insensibility. 

When  he  had  become  calm  and  Harold  was 
sleeping  naturally  in  his  own  bed,  the  father 
knelt  at  his  wife's  knee  and  prayed  God  for  grace 
to  bear  his  burden,  and  said: 

"  Mary,  keep  us  apart  when  we  are  angry. 
He  is  like  me:  he  has  my  fiendish  temper.  No 
matter  what  I  say  or  do,  keep  us  apart  till  I 
am  calm.  By  God's  grace  I  will  never  touch 
his  flesh  again  in  anger." 

Nevertheless  he  dared  not  trust  himself  to 
refer  to  the  battles  which  shamed  them  all.  The 
boy  was  deeply  repentant,  but  uttered  no  word 
of  it.  And  so  they  grew  ever  more  silent  and 
vengeful  in  their  intercourse. 

Harold  early  developed  remarkable  skill  with 
horses,  and  once  rode  in  the  races  at  the  County 
Fair,  to  the  scandal  of  the  First  Church.  He 
not  only  won  the  race,  but  was  at  once  offered 
a  great  deal  of  money  to  go  with  the  victor  to 
other  races.  To  his  plea  the  father,  with  deep- 
laid  diplomacy,  replied: 

"  Very  well ;  study  hard  this  year  and  next 
year  you  may  go."  But  the  boy  was  just  at 

7 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

the  age  to  take  on  weight  rapidly,  and  by  the 
end  of  the  year  was  too  heavy,  and  the  owner 
of  the  horse  refused  to  repeat  his  offer.  Harold 
did  not  fail  to  remark  how  he  had  been  cheated, 
but  said  nothing  more  of  his  wish  to  be  a  jockey. 

He  was  also  fond  of  firearms,  and  during 
his  boyhood  his  father  tried  in  every  way  to 
keep  weapons  from  him,  and  a  box  in  his  study 
contained  a  contraband  collection  of  his  son's 
weapons.  There  was  a  certain  pathos  in  this 
little  arsenal,  for  it  gave  evidence  of  consider 
able  labor  on  the  boy's  part,  and  expressed  much 
of  buoyant  hope  and  restless  energy. 

There  were  a  half-dozen  Fourth  of  July  pis 
tols,  as  many  cannons  for  crackers,  and  three 
attempts  at  real  guns  intended  to  explode  pow 
der  and  throw  a  bullet.  Some  of  them  were 
"  toggled  up  "  with  twine,  and  one  or  two  had 
handles  rudely  carved  out  of  wood.  Two  of 
them  were  genuine  revolvers  which  he  had  man 
aged  to  earn  by  working  in  the  harvest  field  on 
the  Burns'  farm. 

From  his  fifteenth  year  he  was  never  with 
out  a  shotgun  and  revolver.  The  shotgun  was 
allowed,  but  the  revolver  was  still  contraband 
and  kept  carefully  concealed.  On  Fourth  of 
July  he  always  helped  to  fire  the  anvil  and  fire 
works,  for  he  was  deft  and  sure  and  quite  at 
home  with  explosives.  He  had  acquired  great 

8 


His  Youth 

skill  with  both  gun  and  pistol  as  early  as  his 
thirteenth  year,  and  his  feats  of  marksmanship 
came  now  and  then  to  the  ears  of  his  father. 

The  father  and  son  were  in  open  warfare. 
Harold  submitted  to  every  command  outwardly, 
but  inwardly  vowed  to  break  all  restraint  which 
he  considered  useless  or  unjust. 

His  great  ambition  was  to  acquire  a  "  mus 
tang  pony,"  for  all  the  adventurous  spirits  of 
the  dime  novels  he  had  known  carried  revolvers 
and  rode  mustangs.  He  did  not  read  much, 
but  when  he  did  it  was  always  some  tale  of 
fighting.  He  was  too  restless  and  active  to  con 
tinue  at  a  book  of  his  own  accord  for  any  length 
of  time,  but  he  listened  delightedly  to  any  one 
who  consented  to  read  for  him.  When  his  sis 
ter  Maud  wished  to  do  him  a  great  favor  and 
to  enjoy  his  company  (for  she  loved  him  dear 
ly)  she  read  Daredevil  Dan,  or  some  similar 
story,  while  he  lay  out  on  his  stomach  in  the 
grass  under  the  trees,  with  restless  feet  swing 
ing  like  pendulums.  At  such  times  his  face  was 
beautiful  with  longing,  and  his  eyes  became  dark 
and  dreamy.  "  I'm  going  there,  Beauty,"  he 
would  say  as  Maud  rolled  out  the  word  Colo 
rado  or  Brazos.  "  I'm  going  there.  I  won't 
stay  here  and  rot.  I'll  go,  you'll  see,  and  I'll 
have  a  big  herd  of  cattle,  too." 

His  gentlest  moments  were  those  spent  with 
9 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

his  sister  in  the  fields  or  under  the  trees.  As 
he  grew  older  he  became  curiously  tender  and 
watchful  of  her.  It  pleased  him  to  go  ahead 
of  her  through  the  woods,  to  pilot  the  way,  and 
to  help  her  over  ditches  or  fences.  He  loved 
to  lead  her  into  dense  thickets  and  to  look  around 
and  say:  "There,  isn't  this  wild,  though?  You 
couldn't  find  your  way  out  if  it  wasn't  for  me, 
could  you?  "  And  she,  to  carry  out  the  spirit 
of  the  story,  always  shuddered  and  said,  "  Don't 
leave  me  to  perish  here." 

Once,  as  he  lay  with  his  head  in  the  grass, 
he  suddenly  said :  "  Can't  you  hear  the  Colorado 
roar?  " 

The  wind  was  sweeping  over  the  trees,  and 
Maud,  eager  to  keep  him  in  this  gentle  mood, 
cried:  "I  hear  it;  it  is  a  wonderful  river,  isn't  it?" 

He  did  not  speak  again  for  a  moment. 

"  Oh,  I  want  to  be  where  there  is  nobody 
west  of  me,"  he  said,  a  look  of  singular  beauty 
on  his  face.  "  Don't  you?  " 

"  N— no,  I  don't,"  answered  Maud.  "  But, 
then,  I'm  a  girl,  you  know;  we're  afraid  of  wild 
things,  most  of  us." 

"  Dot  Burland  isn't." 

"  Oh,  she  only  pretends;  she  wants  you  to 
think  she's  brave." 

"  That's  a  lie."    He  said  it  so  savagely  that 
Maud  hastened  to  apologize. 
10 


CHAPTER    II 

HIS    LOVE   AFFAIRS 

NATURALLY  a  lad  of  this  temper  had  his 
loves.  He  made  no  secret  of  them,  and  all  the 
young  people  in  the  town  knew  his  sweethearts 
and  the  precise  time  when  his  passion  changed 
its  course.  If  a  girl  pleased  him  he  courted  her 
with  the  utmost  directness,  but  he  was  by  no 
interpretation  a  love-sick  youth.  His  likings 
were  more  in  the  nature  of  proprietary  com 
radeship,  and  were  expressed  without  caresses 
or  ordinary  words  of  endearment. 

His  courtship  amounted  to  service.  He 
waited  about  to  meet  and  help  his  love,  he  has 
tened  to  defend  her  and  to  guide  her;  and  if  the 
favored  one  knew  her  role  she  humored  his  fan 
cies,  permitting  him  to  aid  her  in  finding  her 
way  across  a  weedy  pasture  lot  or  over  a  tiny 
little  brook  which  he  was  pleased  to  call  a  tor 
rent.  A  smile  of  derision  was  fatal.  He  would 
not  submit  to  ridicule  or  joking.  At  the  first 
jocular  word  his  hands  clinched  and  his  eyes 
flamed  with  anger.  His  was  not  a  face  of  laugh- 

2  II 


The  Eagles  Heart 

ter;  for  the  most  part  it  was  serious  in  expres 
sion,  and  his  eyes  were  rapt  with  dreams  of 
great  deeds. 

He  had  one  mate  to  whom  he  talked  freely, 
and  him  he  chose  often  to  be  his  companion 
in  the  woods  or  on  the  prairies.  This  was  John 
Burns,  son  of  a  farmer  who  lived  near  the  town. 
Harry  spent  nearly  every  Saturday  and  Sunday 
during  the  summer  months  on  the  Burns  farm. 
He  helped  Jack  during  haying  and  harvest,  and 
when  their  tasks  were  done  the  two  boys  wan 
dered  away  to  the  bank  of  the  river  and  there, 
under  some  great  basswood  tree  on  delicious 
sward,  they  lay  and  talked  of  wild  animals  and 
Indians  and  the  West.  At  this  time  the  great 
chieftains  of  the  Sioux,  Sitting  Bull  and  Gall, 
were  becoming  famous  to  the  world,  and  the 
first  reports  of  the  findings  of  gold  in  the  Black 
Hills  were  being  made.  A  commission  ap 
pointed  by  President  Grant  had  made  a  treaty 
with  the  Sioux  wherein  Sitting  Bull  was  told, 
"  If  you  go  to  this  new  reservation  and  leave 
Dakota  to  the  settlers,  you  shall  be  unmolested 
so  long  as  grass  grows  and  water  runs." 

But  the  very  guard  sent  in  to  protect  this 
commission  reported  "  gold  in  the  grass  roots," 
and  the  insatiate  greed  of  the  white  man  broke 
all  bounds — the  treaty  was  ignored,  and  Sitting 
Bull,  the  last  chieftain  of  the  Sioux,  calling  his 

12 


His  Love  Affairs 

people  together,  withdrew  deeper  into  the  wil 
derness  of  Wyoming.  The  soldiers  were  sent 
on  the  trail,  and  the  press  teemed  for  months 
with  news  of  battles  and  speeches  and  cam 
paigns. 

All  these  exciting  events  Harry  and  his 
friend  Jack  read  and  discussed  hotly.  Jack  was 
eager  to  own  a  mine.  "  I'd  like  to  pick  up  a 
nugget,"  he  said,  but  Harold  was  not  interested. 
"  I  don't  care  to  mine;  I'd  like  to  be  with  Gen 
eral  Custer.  I'd  like  to  be  one  of  the  scouts. 
I'd  like  to  have  a  coat  like  that."  He  pointed 
at  one  of  the  pictures  wherein  two  or  three  men 
in  fringed  buckskin  shirts  and  wide  hats  were 
galloping  across  a  rocky  plain. 

Many  times  as  the  two  boys  met  to  talk 
over  these  alluring  matters  the  little  town  and 
the  dusty  lanes  became  exceedingly  tame  and 
commonplace. 

Harold's  eyes  glowed  with  passion  as  he 
talked  to  his  sweetheart  of  these  wild  scenes, 
and  she  listened  because  he  was  so  alluring  as 
he  lay  at  her  feet,  pouring  out  a  vivid  recital 
of  his  plans. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  stay  here  much  longer," 
he  said;  "  it's  too  dull.  I  can't  stand  much  more 
school.  If  it  wasn't  for  you  I'd  run  away  right 
now." 

Dot  only  smiled  back  at  him  and  laid  her 
13 


The  Eagles  Heart 

hand  on  his  hair.  She  was  his  latest  sweetheart. 
He  loved  her  for  her  vivid  color,  her  abundant 
and  beautiful  hair,  and  also  because  she  was  a 
sympathetic  listener.  She,  on  her  part,  enjoyed 
the  sound  of  his  eager  voice  and  the  glow  of 
his  deep  brown  eyes.  They  were  both  pupils 
in  the  little  seminary  in  the  town,  and  he  saw 
her  every  day  walking  to  and  from  the  recita 
tion  halls.  He  often  carried  her  books  for  her, 
and  in  many  other  little  ways  insisted  on  serv 
ing  her. 

Almost  without  definable  reason  the  "  Wild 
West "  came  to  be  a  land  of  wonder,  lit  as  by 
some  magical  light.  Its  canons,  arroyos,  and 
mesquite,  its  bronchos,  cowboys,  Indians,  and 
scouts  filled  the  boy's  mind  with  thoughts  of 
daring,  not  much  unlike  the  fancies  of  a  boy 
in  the  days  of  knight  errantry. 

Of  the  Indians  he  held  mixed  opinions.  At 
times  he  thought  of  them  as  a  noble  race,  at 
others — when  he  dreamed  of  fame — he  wished 
to  kill  a  great  many  of  them  and  be  very  famous. 
Most  of  the  books  he  read  were  based  upon  the 
slaughter  of  the  "  redskins,"  and  yet  at  heart 
he  wished  to  be  one  of  them  and  to  taste  the 
wild  joy  of  their  poetic  life,  filled  with  hunt 
ing  and  warfare.  Sitting  Bull,  Chief  Gall,  Rain- 
in-the-Face,  Spotted  Tail,  Star-in-the-Brow,  and 
Black  Buffalo  became  wonder-working  names 

14 


His  Love  Affairs 

in  his  mind.  Every  line  in  the  newspapers  which 
related  to  the  life  of  the  cowboys  or  Indians  he 
read  and  remembered,  for  his  plan  was  to  be 
come  a  part  of  it  as  soon  as  he  had  money 
enough  to  start. 

There  were  those  who  would  have  contrib 
uted  five  dollars  each  to  send  him,  for  he  was 
considered  a  dangerous  influence  among  the 
village  boys.  If  a  window  were  broken  by  hood 
lums  at  night  it  was  counted  against  the  min 
ister's  son.  If  a  melon  patch  were  raided  and 
the  fruit  scattered  and  broken,  Harold  was  con 
sidered  the  ringleader.  Of  the  judgments  of 
their  elders  the  rough  lads  were  well  aware, 
and  they  took  pains  that  no  word  of  theirs 
should  shift  blame  from  Harold's  shoulders  to 
their  own.  By  hints  and  sly  remarks  they  fixed 
unalterably  in  the  minds  of  their  fathers  and 
mothers  the  conception  that  Harold  was  a  des 
perately  bad  and  reckless  boy.  In  his  strength, 
skill,  and  courage  they  really  believed,  and  be 
ing  afraid  of  him,  they  told  stories  of  his  ex 
ploits,  even  among  themselves,  which  bordered 
on  the  marvelous. 

In  reality  he  was  not  a  leader  of  these  raids. 
His  temperament  was  not  of  that  kind.  He 
did  not  care  to  assume  direction  of  an  expedi 
tion  because  it  carried  too  much  trouble  and 
some  responsibility.  His  mind  was  wayward 

15 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

and  liable  to  shift  to  some  other  thing  at  any 
moment;  besides,  mischief  for  its  own  sake  did 
not  appeal  to  him.  The  real  leaders  were  the 
two  sons  of  the  village  shoemaker.  They  were 
under-sized,  weazened,  shrewd,  sly  little  scamps, 
and  appeared  not  to  have  the  resolution  of  chick 
adees,  but  had  a  singular  genius  for  getting 
others  into  trouble.  They  knew  how  to  handle 
spirits  like  Harold.  They  dared  him  to  do  evil 
deeds,  taunted  him  (as  openly  as  they  felt  it  safe 
to  do)  with  cowardice,  and  so  spurred  him  to 
attempt  some  trifling  depredation  merely  as  a 
piece  of  adventure.  Almost  invariably  when 
they  touched  him  on  this  nerve  Harold  re 
sponded  with  a  rush,  and  when  discovery  came 
was  nearly  always  among  the  culprits  taken  and 
branded,  for  his  pride  would  not  permit  him  to 
sneak  and  run.  So  it  fell  out  that  time  after 
time  he  was  found  among  the  grape  stealers 
or  the  melon  raiders,  and  escaped  prosecution 
only  because  the  men  of  the  town  laid  it  to 
"  boyish  deviltry  "  and  not  to  any  deliberate  in 
tent  to  commit  a  crime. 

After  his  daughter  married  Mr.  Excell  made 
another  effort  to  win  the  love  of  his  son  and 
failed.  Harold  cared  nothing  for  his  father's 
scholarship  or  oratorical  powers,  and  never  went 
to  church  after  he  was  sixteen,  but  he  some 
times  boasted  of  his  father  among  the  boys. 

16 


His  Love  Affairs 

"  If  father  wasn't  a  minister,  he'd  be  one  of 
the  strongest  men  in  this  town,"  he  said  once 
to  Jack.  "  Look  at  his  shoulders.  His  arms 
are  hard,  too.  Of  course  he  can't  show  his  mus 
cle,  but  I  tell  you  he  can  box  and  swing  dumb 
bells." 

If  the  father  had  known  it,  in  the  direction 
of  athletics  lay  the  road  to  the  son's  heart,  but 
the  members  of  the  First  Church  were  not  suf 
ficiently  advanced  to  approve  of  a  muscular 
minister,  and  so  Mr.  Excell  kept  silent  on  such 
subjects,  and  swung  his  dumb-bells  in  private. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  had  been  a  good  hunter 
in  his  youth  in  Michigan,  and  might  have  won 
his  son's  love  by  tales  of  the  wood,  but  he 
did  not. 

For  the  most  part,  Harold  ignored  his  father's 
occasional  moments  of  tenderness,  and  spent  the 
larger  part  of  his  time  with  his  sister  or  at  the 
Burns'  farm. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Burns  saw  all  that  was  manly 
and  good  in  the  boy,  and  they  stoutly  defended 
him  on  all  occasions. 

"  The  boy  is  put  upon,"  Mrs.  Burns  always 
argued.  "  A  quieter,  more  peaceabler  boy  I 
never  knew,  except  my  own  Jack.  They're  good, 
helpful  boys,  both  of  'em,  and  I  don't  care  what 
anybody  says." 

Jack,  being  slower  of  thought  and  limb, 
17 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

worshiped  his  chum,  whose  alertness  and  re 
source  humbled  him,  though  he  was  much  the 
better  scholar  in  all  routine  work.  He  read 
more  than  Harold,  but  Harold  seized  upon  the 
facts  and  transmitted  them  instantly  into  some 
thing  vivid  and  dramatic.  He  assumed  all  lead 
ership  in  the  hunting,  and  upon  Jack  fell  all  the 
drudgery.  He  always  did  the  reading,  also, 
while  Harold  listened  and  dreamed  with  eyes 
that  seemed  to  look  across  miles  of  peaks.  His 
was  the  eagle's  heart;  wild  reaches  allured  him. 
Minute  beauties  of  garden  or  flower  were  not 
for  him.  The  groves  along  the  river  had  long 
since  lost  their  charm  because  he  knew  their 
limits — they  no  longer  appealed  to  his  imagi 
nation. 

A  hundred  times  he  said:  "Come,  let's  go 
West  and  kill  buffalo.  To-morrow  we  will  see 
the  snow  on  Pike's  Peak."  The  wild  country 
was  so  near,  its  pressure  day  by  day  molded 
his  mind.  He  had  no  care  or  thought  of  cities 
or  the  East.  He  dreamed  of  the  plains  and 
horses  and  herds  of  buffalo  and  troops  of  In 
dians  filing  down  the  distant  slopes.  Every 
poem  of  the  range,  every  word  which  carried 
flavor  of  the  wild  country,  every  picture  of  a 
hunter  remained  in  his  mind. 

The  feel  of  a  gun  in  his  hands  gave  him  the 
keenest  delight,  and  to  stalk  geese  in  a  pond 

18 


His  Love  Affairs 

or  crows  in  the  cornfield  enabled  him  to  im 
agine  the  joy  of  hunting  the  bear  and  the  buf 
falo.  He  had  the  hunter's  patience,  and  was 
capable  of  creeping  on  his  knees  in  the  mud 
for  hours  in  the  attempt  to  kill  a  duck.  He 
could  imitate  almost  all  the  birds  and  animals 
he  knew.  His  whistle  would  call  the  mother 
grouse  to  him.  He  could  stop  the  whooping 
of  cranes  in  their  steady  flight,  and  his  honk 
ing  deceived  the  wary  geese.  When  compli 
mented  for  his  skill  in  hunting  he  scornfully 
said: 

"  Oh,  that's  nothing.  Anyone  can  kill  small 
game;  but  buffaloes  and  grizzlies — they  are  the 
boys." 

During  the  winter  of  his  sixteenth  year  a 
brother  of  Mr.  Burns  returned  from  Kansas, 
which  was  then  a  strange  and  far-off  land,  and 
from  him  Harold  drew  vast  streams  of  talk.  The 
boy  was  insatiate  when  the  plains  were  under 
discussion.  From  this  veritable  cattleman  he 
secured  many  new  words.  With  great  joy  he 
listened  while  Mr.  Burns  spoke  of  cinches,  ropes, 
corrals,  buttes,  arroyos  and  other  Spanish-Mexi 
can  words  which  the  boys  had  observed  in  their 
dime  novels,  but  which  they  had  never  before 
heard  anyone  use  in  common  speech.  Mr. 
Burns  alluded  to  an  aparejo  or  an  arroyo  as 
casually  as  Jack  would  say  "  singletree "  or 
19 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

"  furrow,"  and  his  stories  brought  the  distant 
plains  country  very  near. 

Harold  sought  opportunity  to  say:  "  Mr. 
Burns,  take  me  back  with  you;  I  wish  you 
would." 

The  cattleman  looked  at  him.  "  Can  you 
ride  a  horse?  " 

Jack  spoke  up:  "  You  bet  he  can,  Uncle.  He 
rode  in  the  races." 

Burns  smiled  as  a  king  might  upon  a  young 
knight  seeking  an  errant. 

"  Well,  if  your  folks  don't  object,  when  you 
get  done  with  school,  and  Jack's  mother  says  he 
can  come,  you  make  a  break  for  Abilene;  we'll 
see  what  I  can  do  with  you  on  the  '  long 
trail.'" 

Harold  took  this  offer  very  seriously,  much 
more  so  than  Mr.  Burns  intended  he  should  do, 
although  he  was  pleased  with  the  boy. 

Harold  well  knew  that  his  father  and  mother 
would  not  consent,  and  very  naturally  said  noth 
ing  to  them  about  his  plan,  but  thereafter  he 
laid  by  every  cent  of  money  he  could  earn,  un 
til  his  thrift  became  a  source  of  comment.  To 
Jack  he  talked  for  hours  of  the  journey  they 
were  to  make.  Jack,  unimaginative  and  en 
grossed  with  his  studies  at  the  seminary,  took 
the  whole  matter  very  calmly.  It  seemed  a  long 
way  off  at  best,  and  his  studies  were  pleasant 

20 


His  Love  Affairs 

and  needed  his  whole  mind.  Harold  was  thrown 
back  upon  the  company  of  his  sweetheart,  who 
was  the  only  one  else  to  whom  he  could  talk 
freely. 

Dot,  indolent,  smiling  creature  of  cozy  cor 
ners  that  she  was,  listened  without  emotion, 
while  Harold,  with  eyes  ablaze,  with  visions  of 
the  great,  splendid  plains,  said:  "I'm  going 
West  sure.  I'm  tired  of  school;  I'm  going  to 
Kansas,  and  I'm  going  to  be  a  great  cattle 
king  in  a  few  years,  Dot,  and  then  I'll  come 
back  and  get  you,  and  we'll  go  live  on  the  banks 
of  a  big  river,  and  we'll  have  plenty  of  horses, 
and  go  riding  and  hunting  antelope  every  day. 
How  will  you  like  that?  " 

Her  unresponsiveness  hurt  him,  and  he  said: 
"  You  don't  seem  to  care  whether  I  go  or  not." 

She  turned  and  looked  at  him  vacantly,  still 
smiling,  and  he  saw  that  she  had  not  heard  a 
single  word  of  his  passionate  speech.  He  sprang 
up,  hot  with  anger  and  pain. 

"  If  you  don't  care  to  listen  to  me  you 
needn't,"  he  said,  speaking  through  his  clinched 
teeth. 

She  smiled,  showing  her  little  white  teeth 
prettily.  "  Now,  don't  get  mad,  Harry;  I  was 
thinking  of  something  else.  Please  tell  me 
again." 

"  I  won't.  I'm  done  with  you."  A  big  lump 
21 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

arose  in  his  throat  and  he  turned  away  to  hide 
tears  of  mortified  pride.  He  could  not  have 
put  it  into  words,  but  he  perceived  the  painful 
truth.  Dot  had  considered  him  a  boy  all  along, 
and  had  only  half  listened  to  his  stones  and  plans 
in  the  past,  deceiving  him  for  some  purpose  of 
her  own.  She  was  a  smiling,  careless  hypo 
crite. 

"  You've  lied  to  me,"  he  said,  turning  and 
speaking  with  the  bluntness  of  a  boy  without 
subtlety  of  speech.  "  I  never'll  speak  to  you 
again;  good-by." 

Dot  kept  swinging  her  foot.  "  Good-by," 
she  said  in  her  sweet,  soft-breathing  voice. 

He  walked  away  slowly,  but  his  heart  was 
hot  with  rage  and  wounded  pride,  and  every 
time  he  thought  of  the  tone  in  which  she  said 
"  Good-by,"  his  flesh  quivered.  He  was  seven 
teen,  and  considered  himself  a  man;  she  was 
eighteen,  and  thought  him  only  a  boy.  She  had 
never  listened  to  him,  that  he  now  understood. 
Maud  had  been  right.  Dot  had  only  pretended, 
and  now  for  some  reason  she  ceased  to  pretend. 

There  was  just  one  comfort  in  all  this:  it 
made  it  easier  for  him  to  go  to  the  sunsel  coun 
try,  and  his  wounded  heart  healed  a  little  at  the 
thought  of  riding  a  horse  behind  a  roaring  herd 
of  buffaloes. 


22 


CHAPTER    III 

THE   YOUNG    EAGLE   STRIKES 

A  FARMING  village  like  Rock  River  is  one 
of  the  quietest,  most  humdrum  communities  in 
the  world  till  some  sudden  upheaval  of  primi 
tive  passion  reveals  the  tiger,  the  ram,  and  the 
wolf  which  decent  and  orderly  procedure  has 
hidden.  Cases  of  murder  arise  from  the  dead 
level  of  everyday  village  routine  like  volcanic 
mountain  peaks  in  the  midst  of  a  flowering 
plain. 

The  citizens  of  Rock  River  were  amazed  and 
horrified  one  Monday  morning  to  learn  that 
Dot  Burland  had  eloped  with  the  clerk  in  the 
principal  bank  in  the  town,  a  married  man  and 
the  leader  of  the  choir  in  the  First  Church. 
Some  of  the  people  when  they  heard  of  it,  said: 
"  I  do  not  believe  it,"  and  when  they  were  con 
vinced,  the  tears  came  to  their  eyes.  "  She  was 
such  a  pretty  girl,  and  think  of  Mrs.  Willard — 
and  then  Sam — who  would  have  supposed  Sam 
Willard  could  do  such  a  thing." 

To  most  of  the  citizens  it  was  drama;  it 
23 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

broke  the  tedious  monotony  of  everyday  life; 
it  was  more  productive  of  interesting  conversa 
tion  than  a  case  of  embezzlement  or  the  burn 
ing  of  the  county  courthouse.  There  were  those 
who  smiled  while  they  said:  "  Too  bad,  too  bad! 
Any  p'ticlers?  " 

Some  of  the  women  recalled  their  dislike  of 
the  lazy,  pink-and-white  creature  whom  they 
had  often  seen  loitering  on  the  streets  or  lying 
day  after  day  in  a  hammock  reading  "  domestic 
novels."  The  young  girls  drew  together  and 
conveyed  the  news  in  whispers.  It  seemed  to 
overturn  the  whole  social  world  so  far  as  then 
knew  it,  and  some  of  them  hastened  to  disclaim 
any  friendship  with  "  the  dreadful  thing." 

Of  course  the  related  persons  came  into  the 
talk.  "  Poor  Mrs.  Willard  and  Harry  Excell!  " 
Yes,  there  was  Harry;  for  a  moment,  for  the  first 
time,  he  was  regarded  with  pity.  "  What  will 
he  do?  He  must  take  it  very  hard." 

At  about  eleven  o'clock,  just  as  the  discus 
sion  had  reached  this  secondary  stage,  where 
new  particulars  were  necessary,  a  youth,  pale 
and  breathless,  with  his  right  hand  convulsively 
clasping  his  bloody  shoulder,  rushed  into  the 
central  drug  store  and  fell  to  the  floor  with  in 
articulate  cries  of  fear  and  pain.  Out  of  his 
mouth  at  last  came  an  astonishing  charge  of 
murderous  assault  on  the  part  of  Harold  Ex- 
24 


The  Young  Eagle  Strikes 

cell.  His  wounds  were  dressed  and  the  authori 
ties  notified  to  arrest  his  assailant. 

When  the  officers  found  Harold  he  was 
pacing  up  and  down  the  narrow  alley  where  the 
encounter  had  taken  place.  He  was  white  as 
the  dead,  and  his  eyes  were  ablaze  under  his 
knitted  brows. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want  of  me?  "  he  de 
manded,  as  the  officer  rushed  up  and  laid  hands 
upon  him. 

"You've  killed  Clint  Slocum,"  replied  the 
constable,  drawing  a  pair  of  handcuffs  from  his 
pocket. 

"Oh,  drop  those  things!"  replied  Harold; 
"  I'm  not  going  to  run;  you  never  knew  me 
to  run." 

Half  ashamed,  the  constable  replaced  the 
irons  in  his  pocket  and  seized  his  prisoner  by 
the  arm.  Harold  walked  along  quietly,  but  his 
face  was  terrible  to  see,  especially  in  one  so 
young.  In  every  street  excited  men,  women, 
and  children  were  running  to  see  him  pass.  He 
had  suddenly  become  alien  and  far  separated 
from  them  all.  He  perceived  them  as  if  through 
a  lurid  smoke  cloud. 

On  most  of  these  faces  lay  a  smile,  a  ghastly, 
excited,  pleased  grin,  which  enraged  him  more 
than  any  curse  would  have  done.  He  had  sud 
denly  become  their  dramatic  entertainment. 

25 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

The  constable  gripped  him  tighter  and  the  sher 
iff,  running  up,  seized  his  other  arm. 

Harold  shook  himself  free.  "  Let  me  alone! 
I'm  going  along  all  right." 

The  officers  only  held  him  the  closer,  and 
his  rage  broke  bounds.  He  struggled  till  his 
captors  swayed  about  on  the  walk,  and  the  little 
boys  screamed  with  laughter  to  see  the  slender 
youth  shake  the  big  men. 

In  the  midst  of  this  struggle  a  tall  man,  with 
out  hat  or  coat  and  wearing  slippers,  came  run 
ning  down  the  walk  with  great  strides.  His 
voice  rang  deep  and  clear: 

"  Let  the  boy  alone!  " 

It  was  the  minister.  With  one  sweep  of  his 
right  hand  he  tore  the  hands  of  the  sheriff  from 
the  boy's  arms;  the  gesture  was  bearlike  in 
power.  "  What's  the  meaning  of  all  this,  Mr. 
Sawyer?  "  he  said,  addressing  the  sheriff. 

"  Your  boy  has  killed  a  man." 

"You  lie!" 

"  It's  true — anyhow,  he  has  stabbed  Clint 
Slocum.  He  ain't  dead,  but  he's  hurt  bad." 

"  Is  that  true,  Harold?  " 

Harold  did  not  lift  his  sullen  glance.  "  He 
struck  me  with  a  whip." 

There  was  a  silence,  during  which  the  min 
ister  choked  with  emotion  and  his  lips  moved 
as  if  in  silent  prayer.  Then  he  turned.  "  Free 
26 


The  Young  Eagle  Strikes 

the  boy's  arm.  I'll  guarantee  he  will  not  try 
to  escape.  No  son  of  mine  will  run  to  escape 
punishment — leave  him  to  me." 

The  constable,  being  a  member  of  the  min 
ister's  congregation  and  a  profound  admirer  of 
his  pastor,  fell  back.  The  sheriff  took  a  place 
by  his  side,  and  the  father  and  son  walked  on 
toward  the  jail.  After  a  few  moments  the  min 
ister  began  to  speak  in  a  low  voice: 

"  My  son,  you  have  reached  a.  momentous 
point  in  your  life's  history.  Much  depends  on 
the  words  you  use.  I  will  not  tell  you  to  con 
ceal  the  truth,  but  you  need  not  incriminate 
yourself — that  is  the  law  " — his  voice  was  al 
most  inaudible,  but  Harold  heard  it.  "  If  Slo- 
cum  dies — oh,  my  God!  My  God!  " 

His  voice  failed  him  utterly,  but  he  walked 
erect  and  martial,  the  sun  blazing  on  his  white 
forehead,  his  hands  clinched  at  his  sides.  There 
were  many  of  his  parishioners  in  the  streets,  and 
several  of  the  women  broke  into  bitter  weeping 
as  he  passed,  and  many  of  the  men  imprecated 
the  boy  who  was  bringing  white  lines  of  sor 
row  into  his  father's  hair.  "  This  is  the  logical 
end  of  his  lawless  bringing  up,"  said  one. 

The  father  went  on:  "  Tell  me,  my  boy — tell 
me  the  truth — did  you  strike  to  kill?  Was  mur 
der  in  your  heart?  " 

Harold  did  not  reply.  The  minister  laid  a 
3  27 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

broad,  gentle  hand  on  his  son's  shoulder.  "  Tell 
me,  Harold." 

"  No;  I  struck  to  hurt  him.  He  was  strik 
ing  me;  I  struck  back,"  the  boy  sullenly  an 
swered. 

The  father  sighed  with  relief.  "  I  believe 
you,  Harold.  He  is  older  and  stronger,  too: 
that  will  count  in  your  favor." 

They  reached  the  jail  yard  gate,  and  there,  in 
the  face  of  a  crowd  of  curious  people,  the  min 
ister  bowed  his  proud  head  and  put  his  arm 
about  his  son  and  kissed  his  hair.  Then,  with 
tears  upon  his  face,  he  addressed  the  sheriff: 

"  Mr.  Sheriff,  I  resign  my  boy  to  your  care. 
Remember,  he  is  but  a  lad,  and  he  is  my  only 
son.  Deal  gently  with  him. — Harold,  submit  to 
the  law  and  all  will  end  well.  I  will  bring 
mother  and  Maud  to  see  you  at  once." 

As  the  gate  closed  on  his  son  the  minister 
drew  a  deep  breath,  and  a  cry  of  bitter  agony 
broke  from  his  clinched  lips:  "  O  God,  O  God! 
My  son  is  lost!  " 

The  story  of  the  encounter,  even  as  it  drib 
bled  forth  from  Slocum,  developed  extenuating 
circumstances.  Slocum  was  man  grown,  a  big, 
muscular  fellow,  rather  given  to  bullying.  A 
heavy  carriage  whip  was  found  lying  in  the  alley, 
and  this  also  supported  Harold's  story  to  his 
father.  As  told  by  Slocum,  the  struggle  took 

28 


The  Young  Eagle  Strikes 

place  just  where  the  alley  from  behind  the  par 
sonage  came  out  upon  the  cross  street. 

"  I  was  leading  a  horse/*  said  Slocum,  "  and 
I  met  Harry,  and  we  got  to  talking,  and  some 
thing  I  said  made  him  mad,  and  he  jerked  out 
his  knife  and  jumped  at  me.  The  horse  got 
scared  and  yanked  me  around,  and  just  then 
Harry  got  his  knife  into  me.  I  saw  he  was  in 
for  my  life  and  I  threw  down  the  whip  and  run, 
the  blood  a-spurting  out  o'  me,  hot  as  b'ilin' 
water.  I  was  scared,  I  admit  that.  I  thought 
he'd  opened  a  big  artery  in  me,  and  I  guess 
he  did." 

When  this  story,  amplified  and  made  dra 
matic,  reached  the  ears  of  the  minister,  he  said: 
"  That  is  Clinton's  side  of  the  case.  My  son 
must  have  been  provoked  beyond  his  control. 
Wait  till  we  hear  his  story." 

But  the  shadow  of  the  prison  was  on  Har 
old's  face,  and  he  sullenly  refused  to  make  any 
statement,  even  to  his  sister,  who  had  more  in 
fluence  over  him  than  Mrs.  Excell. 

A  singular  and  sinister  change  came  over 
him  as  the  days  passed.  He  became  silent  and 
secretive  and  suspicious,  and  the  sheriff  spoke 
to  Mr.  Excell  about  it.  "  I  don't  understand 
that  boy  of  yours.  He  seems  to  be  in  training 
for  a  contest  of  some  kind.  He's  quiet  enough 
in  daytime,  or  when  I'm  around,  but  when  he 

29 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

thinks  he's  alone,  he  races  up  and  down  like  a 
lynx,  and  jumps  and  turns  handsprings,  and 
all  sorts  of  things.  The  only  person  he  asks  to 
see  is  young  Burns.  I  can't  fathom  him." 

The  father  lowered  his  eyes.  He  knew  well 
that  Harry  did  not  ask  for  him. 

"  If  it  wasn't  for  these  suspicious  actions, 
doctor,  I'd  let  him  have  the  full  run  of  the  jail 
yard,  but  I  dassent  let  him  have  any  liberties. 
Why,  he  can  go  up  the  side  of  the  cells  like  a 
squirrel!  He'd  go  over  our  wall  like  a  cat — 
no  doubt  of  it." 

The  minister  spoke  with  some  effort.  "  I 
think  you  misread  my  son.  He  is  not  one  to 
flee  from  punishment.  He  has  some  other  idea 
in  his  mind." 

To  Jack  Burns  alone,  plain,  plodding,  and 
slow,  Harold  showed  a  smiling  face.  He  met 
him  with  a  boyish  word — "Hello,  Jack!  how 
goes  it?  " — and  was  eager  to  talk.  He  reached 
out  and  touched  him  with  his  hands  wistfully. 
"  I'm  glad  you've  come.  You're  the  only  friend 
I've  got  now,  Jack."  This  was  one  of  the  mor 
bid  fancies  jail  life  had  developed;  he  thought 
everybody  had  turned  against  him.  "  Now,  I 
want  to  tell  you  something — we're  chums,  and 
you  mustn't  give  me  away.  These  fools  think 
I'm  going  to  try  to  escape,  but  I  ain't.  You 
see,  they  can't  hang  me  for  stabbing  that  cow- 
30 


The  Young  Eagle  Strikes 

ard,  but  they'll  shut  me  up  for  a  year  or  two, 
and  I've  got  to  keep  healthy,  don't  you  see? 
When  I  get  out  o'  this  I  strike  for  the  West, 
don't  you  see?  And  I've  got  to  be  able  to  do 
a  day's  work.  Look  at  this  arm."  He  stripped 
his  strong  white  arm  for  inspection. 

In  the  midst  of  the  excitement  attending 
Harold's  arrest,  Dot's  elopement  was  tempora 
rily  diminished  in  value,  but  some  shrewd  gossip 
connected  the  two  events  and  said:  "I  believe 
Clint  gibed  Harry  Excell  about  Dot — I  just  be 
lieve  that's  what  the  fight  was  about." 

This  being  repeated,  not  as  an  opinion  but  as 
the  inside  facts  in  the  case,  sentiment  turned 
swiftly  in  Harold's  favor.  Clinton  was  shrewd 
enough  to  say  very  little  about  the  quarrel. 
"  I  was  just  givin'  him  a  little  guff,  and  he  up 
and  lit  into  me  with  a  big  claspknife."  Such 
was  his  story  constantly  repeated. 

Fortunately  for  Harold,  the  case  came  to 
trial  early  in  the  autumn  session.  It  was  the 
most  dramatic  event  of  the  year,  and  it  was 
seriously  suggested  that  it  would  be  a  good 
thing  to  hold  the  trial  in  the  opera  house  in 
order  that  all  the  townspeople  should  be  able 
to  enjoy  it.  A  cynical  young  editor  made  a 
counter  suggestion:  "  I  move  we  charge  one 
dollar  per  ticket  and  apply  the  funds  to  buying 
a  fire  engine."  Naturally,  the  judge  of  the  dis- 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

trict  went  the  calm  way  of  the  law,  regardless 
of  the  town's  ferment  of  interest  in  the  case. 

The  county  attorney  appeared  for  the  prose 
cution,  and  ola  Judge  Brown  and  young  Brad 
ley  Talcott  defended  Harold. 

Bradley  knew  Harold  very  well  and  the  boy 
had  a  high  regard  for  him.  Lawyer  Brown  be 
lieved  the  boy  to  be  a  restless  and  dangerous 
spirit,  but  he  said  to  Bradley: 

"  I've  no  doubt  the  boy  was  provoked  by 
Clint,  who  is  a  worthless  bully,  but  we  must 
face  the  fact  that  young  Excell  bears  a  bad  name. 
He  has  been  in  trouble  a  great  many  times,  and 
the  prosecution  will  make  much  of  that.  Our 
business  is  to  show  the  extent  of  the  provoca 
tion,  and  secondly,  to  disprove,  so  far  as  we  can, 
the  popular  conception  of  the  youth.  I  can  get 
nothing  out  of  him  which  will  aid  in  his  defense. 
He  refuses  to  talk.  Unless  we  can  wring  the 
truth  out  of  Slocum  on  the  stand  it  will  go  hard 
with  the  boy.  I  wish  you'd  see  what  you  can  do." 

Bradley  went  down  to  see  Harold,  and  the 
two  spent  a  couple  of  hours  together.  Brad 
ley  talked  to  him  in  plain  and  simple  words, 
without  any  assumption.  His  voice  was  kind 
and  sincere,  and  Harold  nearly  wept  under  its 
music,  but  he  added  very  little  to  Bradley's 
knowledge  of  the  situation. 

"  He  struck  me  with  the  whip,  and  then  I 
32 


The  Young  Eagle  Strikes 

— I  can't  remember  much  about  it,  my  mind  was 
a  kind  of  a  red  blurr,"  Harold  said  at  last  des 
perately. 

"  Why  did  he  strike  you  with  the  whip?  " 

"  I  told  him  he  was  a  black-hearted  liar." 

"  What  made  you  say  that  to  him?  "  perse 
vered  Bradley. 

"  Because  that's  what  he  was." 

"  Did  he  say  something  to  you  which  you 
resented?  " 

"  Yes— he  did." 

"  What  was  it?  " 

Right  there  Harold  closed  his  lips  and  Brad 
ley  took  another  tack. 

"  Harry,  I  want  you  to  tell  me  something. 
Did  you  have  anything  to  do  with  killing 
Brownlow's  dog?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Harold  disdainfully. 

"  Did  you  have  any  hand  in  the  raid  on 
Brownlow's  orchard  a  week  later?  " 

"No;  I  was  at  home." 

"  Did  your  folks  see  you  during  the  even- 
ing?" 

"  No;  I  was  with  Jack  up  in  the  attic,  read 
ing." 

"  You've  taken  a  hand  in  some  of  these 
things — raids — haven't  you?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  never  tried  to  destroy  things. 
It  was  all  in  fun." 

33 


The  Eagles  Heart 

"  I  understand.  Well,  now,  Harold,  you've 
got  a  worse  name  than  belongs  to  you,  and  I 
wish  you'd  just  tell  me  the  whole  truth  about 
this  fight,  and  we  will  do  what  we  can  to  help 
you." 

Harold's  face  grew  sullen.  "  I  don't  care 
what  they  do  with  me.  They're  all  down  on 
me  anyway,"  he  slowly  said,  and  Bradley  arose 
and  went  out  with  a  feeling  of  discouragement. 


34 


CHAPTER    IV 

THE    TRIAL 

THE  day  of  his  trial  came  as  a  welcome 
change  to  Harold.  He  had  no  fear  of  punish 
ment  and  he  hated  delay.  Every  day  before 
his  sentence  began  was  a  loss  of  time — kept  him 
just  that  much  longer  from  the  alluring  lands 
to  the  West.  His  father  called  often  to  see  him, 
but  the  boy  remained  inexorably  silent  in  all 
these  meetings,  and  the  minister  went  away 
white  with  pain.  Even  to  his  sister  Harold  was 
abrupt  and  harsh,  but  Jack's  devotion  produced 
in  him  the  most  exalted  emotion,  and  he  turned 
upon  his  loyal  chum  the  whole  force  of  his 
affectionate  nature.  He  did  not  look  up  to 
Jack;  he  loved  him  more  as  a  man  loves  his 
younger  brother,  and  yet  even  to  him  he  would 
not  utter  the  words  young  Slocum  had  flung 
at  him.  Lawyer  Talcott  had  asked  young  Burns 
to  get  at  this  if  possible,  for  purpose  of  defense, 
but  it  was  not  possible. 

The  court  met  on  the  first  Tuesday  in  Sep 
tember.  The  day  was  windless  and  warm,  and 

35 


The  Eagles  Heart 

as  Harold  walked  across  the  yard  with  the  sher 
iff  he  looked  around  at  the  maple  leaves,  just 
touched  with  crimson  and  gold  and  russet,  and 
his  heart  ached  with  desire  to  be  free.  The 
scent  of  the  open  air  made  his  nostrils  quiver 
like  those  of  a  deer. 

Jack  met  them  on  the  path — eager  to  share 
his  hero's  trouble. 

"  Please,  sheriff,  let  me  walk  with  Harry." 

"  Fall  in  behind,"  the  sheriff  gruffly  replied; 
and  so  out  of  all  the  town  people  Jack  alone 
associated  himself  with  the  prisoner.  Up  the 
stairs  whereon  he  had  romped  when  a  lad,  Har 
old  climbed  spiritlessly,  a  boy  no  longer. 

The  halls  were  lined  with  faces,  everyone 
as  familiar  as  the  scarred  and  scratched  wall  of 
the  court  room,  and  yet  all  were  now  alien — no 
one  recognized  him  by  a  frank  and  friendly  nod, 
and  he  moved  past  his  old  companions  with 
sullen  and  rigid  face.  His  father  met  him  at 
the  door  and  walked  beside  him  down  the  aisle 
to  a  seat. 

The  benches  were  crowded,  and  every  foot 
of  standing  space  was  soon  filled.  The  mem 
bers  of  the  First  Church  were  present  in  mass 
to  see  the  minister  enter,  pale  and  haggard  with 
the  disgrace  of  his  son. 

The  judge,  an  untidy  old  man  of  great  abil 
ity  and  probity,  was  in  his  seat,  looking  out  ab- 

36 


The  Trial 

sently  over  the  spectators.  "  The  next  case  " 
to  him  was  only  a  case.  He  had  grown  gray 
in  dealing  with  infractions  of  the  law,  and  though 
kindly  disposed  he  had  grown  indifferent — use 
had  dulled  his  sympathies.  His  beard,  yellow 
with  tobacco  stain,  was  still  venerable,  and  his 
voice,  deep  and  melodious,  was  impressive  and 
commanding. 

He  was  disposed  to  cut  short  all  useless 
forms,  and  soon  brought  the  case  to  vital  ques 
tions.  Naturally,  the  prosecution  made  a  great 
deal  of  Harold's  bad  character,  drawing  from 
ready  witnesses  the  story  of  his  misdeeds.  To 
do  this  was  easy,  for  the  current  set  that  way, 
and  those  who  had  only  thought  Harold  a  bad 
boy  now  knew  that  he  was  concerned  in  all  the 
mischief  of  the  village. 

In  rebuttal,  Mr.  Talcott  drew  out  contradic 
tory  statements  from  these  witnesses,  and  proved 
several  alibis  at  points  where  Harold  had  been 
accused.  He  produced  Jack  Burns  and  several 
others  to  prove  that  Harold  liked  fun,  but  that 
he  was  not  inclined  to  lead  in  any  of  the  mis 
chief  of  the  town — in  fact,  that  he  had  not  the 
quality  of  leadership. 

He  pushed  young  Burns  hard  to  get  him 
to  say  that  he  knew  the  words  of  insult  which 
Slocum  had  used.  "  I  think  he  used  some  girl's 
name,"  he  finally  admitted. 

37 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

"  I  object,"  shouted  the  prosecution,  as  if 
touched  on  a  hidden  spring. 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  judge  to  Talcott.  He 
had  become  interested  in  the  case  at  last. 

When  the  lawyer  for  the  prosecution  cross- 
examined  young  Burns  he  became  terrible.  He 
leaned  across  the  table  and  shook  his  lean,  big- 
jointed  finger  in  Jack's  face.  "  We  don't  want 
what  you  think,  sir;  we  want  what  you  know. 
Do  you  know  that  Slocum  brought  a  girl's  name 
into  this?  " 

"  No,  sir,  I  don't,"  replied  Jack,  red  and  per 
spiring. 

"  That's  all! "  cried  the  attorney,  leaning 
back  in  his  chair  with  dramatic  complacency. 

Others  of  Harold's  companions  were  brow 
beaten  into  declaring  that  he  led  them  into  all 
kinds  of  raids,  and  when  Talcott  tried  to  stem 
this  tide  by  objection,  the  prosecution  rose  to 
say  that  the  testimony  was  competent;  that  it 
was  designed  to  show  the  dangerous  character 
of  the  prisoner.  "  He  is  no  gentle  and  guile 
less  youth,  y'r  Honor,  but  a  reckless  young 
devil,  given  to  violence.  No  one  will  go  further 
than  I  in  admiration  of  the  Reverend  Mr.  Ex- 
cell,  but  the  fact  of  the  son's  lawless  life  can  not 
be  gainsaid." 

Slocum  repeated  his  story  on  the  stand 
and  was  unshaken  by  Bradley's  cross-exam- 

38 


The  Trial 

ination.  Suddenly  the  defense  said:  "Stand, 
please." 

Slocum  arose — a  powerful,  full-grown  man. 

Bradley  nodded  at  Harold.    "  Stand  also." 

"  I  object,"  shrieked  the  prosecution. 

"  State  the  objection,"  said  the  judge. 

"  Keep  your  position,"  said  Bradley  sternly. 
"  I  want  the  jury  to  compare  you." 

As  the  prisoner  and  the  witness  faced  each 
other  the  court  room  blossomed  with  smiles. 
Harold  looked  very  pale  and  delicate  beside  the 
coarse,  muscular  hostler,  who  turned  red  and 
looked  foolish. 

Ultimately  the  judge  sustained  the  objec 
tion,  but  the  work  was  done.  A  dramatic  con 
trast  had  been  drawn,  and  the  jury  perceived 
the  pusillanimity  of  Slocum's  story.  This  was 
the  position  of  the  defense.  Harold  was  a  boy, 
the  hostler  had  insulted  him,  had  indeed  struck 
him  with  a  whip.  Mad  with  rage,  and  realizing 
the  greater  strength  of  his  assailant,  the  prisoner 
had  drawn  a  knife. 

In  rebuttal,  the  prosecution  made  much  of 
Harold's  fierce  words.  He  meant  to  kill.  He 
was  a  dangerous  boy.  "  Speaking  with  due  rev 
erence  for  his  parents,"  the  lawyer  said,  "  the 
boy  has  been  a  scourge.  Again  and  again  he 
has  threatened  his  playmates  with  death.  These 
facts  must  stand.  The  State  is  willing  to  admit 

39 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

the  disparity  of  strength,  so  artfully  set  forth 
by  the  defense,  but  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that 
the  boy  was  known  to  carry  deadly  weapons, 
and  that  he  was  subject  to  blind  rages.  It  was 
not,  therefore,  so  much  a  question  of  punishing 
the  boy  as  of  checking  his  assaults  upon  soci 
ety.  To  properly  punish  him  here  would  have 
a  most  salutary  effect  upon  his  action  in  future. 
The  jury  must  consider  the  case  without  senti 
ment." 

Old  Brown  arose  after  the  State  had  fin 
ished.  Everyone  knew  his  power  before  a  jury, 
and  the  room  was  painfully  silent  as  he  walked 
with  stately  tread  to  a  spittoon  and  cleared  his 
mouth  of  a  big  wad  of  tobacco.  He  was  the 
old-fashioned  lawyer,  formal,  deliberate;  and 
though  everybody  enjoyed  Bradley  Talcott's 
powerful  speech,  they  looked  for  drama  from 
Brown.  The  judge  waited  patiently  while  the 
famous  old  lawyer  played  his  introductory  part. 
At  last,  after  silently  pacing  to  and  fro  for  a 
full  minute,  he  turned,  and  began  in  a  hard,  dry, 
nasal  voice. 

"  Your  Honor,  I'm  not  so  sure  of  the  re 
forming  effect  of  a  penitentiary.  I  question  the 
salutary  quality  of  herding  this  delicate  and  high- 
spirited  youth  with  the  hardened  criminals  of 
the  State."  His  strident,  monotonous  tone,  and 
the  cynical  inflections  of  his  voice  made  the  spec- 
40 


The  Trial 

tators  shiver  with  emotion  as  under  the  power 
of  a  great  actor.  He  paced  before  the  judge 
twice  before  speaking  again.  "  Your  Honor, 
there  is  more  in  this  case  than  has  yet  appeared. 
Everyone  in  this  room  knows  that  the  elope 
ment  of  Dorothy  Burland  is  at  the  bottom  of 
this  affair,  everyone  but  yourself,  judge.  This 
lad  was  the  accepted  sweetheart  of  that  wayward 
miss.  This  man  Slocum  is  one  of  the  rough, 
loud-spoken  men  of  the  village,  schooled  in  vice 
and  fisticuffery.  You  can  well  imagine,  gentle 
men  of  the  jury,"  he  turned  to  them  abruptly, 
"  you  can  well  imagine  the  kind  of  a  greeting 
this  town  loafer  would  give  this  high-spirited 
boy  on  that  morning  after  the  night  when  his 
inamorata  disappeared  with  a  married  man.  The 
boy  has  in  him  somewhat  of  the  knight  of  the 
old  time,  your  Honor;  he  has  never  opened  his 
lips  in  dispraise  of  his  faithless  love.  He  has 
refused  to  repeat  the  insulting  words  of  his  as 
sailant.  He  stands  to-day  at  a  turning  point  of 
his  life,  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  and  it  depends 
on  you  whether  he  goes  downward  or  upward. 
He  has  had  his  faith  in  women  shaken:  don't 
let  him  lose  faith  in  law  and  earthly  justice." 
His  first  gesture  was  on  the  word  "  downward," 
and  it  was  superb. 

Again  he  paused,  and  when  he  looked  up 
again  a  twinkle  was  in  his  eyes  and  his  voice 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

was  softer.  "  As  for  all  this  chicken  roasting 
and  melon  lifting,  you  well  know  the  spirit  that 
is  in  that;  we  all  had  a  hand  in  such  business 
once,  every  man  Jack  of  us.  The  boy  is  no 
more  culpable  now  than  you  were  then.  More 
over,  Excell  has  had  too  much  of  the  mischief 
of  the  town  laid  on  his  shoulders — more  than 
he  deserves.  '  Give  a  dog  a  bad  name  and  every 
dead  sheep  is  laid  at  the  door  of  his  kennel.' 

"  However,  I  don't  intend  to  review  the  case, 
y'r  Honor.  My  colleague  has  made  the  main 
and  vital  points  entirely  clear;  I  intend  merely 
to  add  a  word  here  and  there.  I  want  you  to 
take  another  look  at  that  pale,  handsome,  poetic 
youth  and  then  at  that  burly  bully,  and  con 
sider  the  folly,  the  idiocy,  and  the  cowardice  of 
the  charge  brought  against  our  client."  He 
waited  while  the  contrast  which  his  dramatic 
utterance  made  enormously  effective  was  being 
felt;  then,  in  a  deep,  melodious  voice,  touched 
with  sadness,  he  addressed  the  judge: 

"  And  to  you,  your  Honor,  I  want  to  say 
we  are  old  men.  You  on  the  bench  and  I  here 
in  the  forum  have  faced  each  other  many  times. 
I  have  defended  many  criminals,  as  it  was  my 
duty  to  do,  and  you  have  punished  many  who 
deserved  their  sentences.  I  have  seen  innocent 
men  unable  to  prove  their  freedom  from  guilt, 
and  I  have  known  men  who  are  grossly  crim- 
42 


The  Trial 

inal,  because  of  lack  of  evidence — these  things 
are  beyond  our  cure.  We  are  old,  your  Honor: 
we  must  soon  give  place  to  younger  men.  We 
can  not  afford  to  leave  bench  and  bar  with  the 
stain  of  injustice  on  our  garments.  We  can  not 
afford  to  start  this  boy  on  the  road  to  hell  at 
seventeen  years  of  age." 

He  stopped  as  abruptly  as  he  had  begun, 
and  the  room  was  silent  for  a  long  time  after 
he  had  taken  his  seat.  To  Harold  it  seemed 
as  though  he  and  all  the  people  of  the  room 
were  dead — that  only  his  brain  was  alive.  Then 
Mrs.  Excell  burst  into  sobbing.  The  judge 
looked  away  into  space,  his  dim  eyes  seeing 
nothing  that  was  near,  his  face  an  impassive 
mask  of  colorless  flesh.  The  old  lawyer's  words 
had  stirred  his  blood,  sluggish  and  cold  with 
age,  but  his  brain  absorbed  the  larger  part  of 
his  roused  vitality,  and  when  he  spoke  his  voice 
had  an  unwontedly  flat  and  dry  sound. 

"  The  question  for  you  to  decide,"  he  said, 
instructing  the  jury,  "  is  whether  the  boy  struck 
the  blow  in  self-defense,  or  whether  he  assaulted 
with  intent  to  do  great  bodily  injury.  The  fact 
that  he  was  provoked  by  a  man  older  and 
stronger  than  himself  naturally  militates  in  his 
favor,  but  the  next  question  is  upon  the  boy's 
previous  character.  Did  he  carry  deadly  weap 
ons?  Is  he  at  heart  dangerous  to  his  fellows? 
4  43 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

His  youth  should  be  in  mind,  but  it  should  also 
be  remembered  that  he  is  a  lad  of  high  intel 
lectual  power,  older  than  most  men  of  his 
age.  I  will  not  dwell  upon  the  case;  you  have 
heard  the  testimony;  the  verdict  is  in  your 
keeping." 

During  all  this  period  of  severe  mental  strain 
Mr.  Excell  sat  beside  Lawyer  Brown,  motion 
less  as  a  statue,  save  when  now  and  again  he 
leaned  forward  to  whisper  a  suggestion.  He 
did  not  look  at  his  son,  and  Harold  seldom 
looked  at  him.  Jack  Burns  sat  as  near  the  pris 
oner  as  the  sheriff  would  permit,  and  his  homely, 
good  face,  and  the  face  of  the  judge  were  to 
Harold  the  only  spots  of  light  in  the  otherwise 
dark  room.  Outside  the  voices  of  children  could 
be  heard  and  the  sound  of  the  rising  wind  in 
the  rustling  trees.  Once  a  breeze  sent  a  shower 
of  yellow  and  crimson  leaves  fluttering  in  at  the 
open  window,  and  the  boy's  heart  swelled  high 
in  his  throat,  and  he  bowed  his  head  and  sobbed. 
Those  leaves  represented  the  splendor  of  the 
open  spaces  to  him.  They  were  like  messages 
from  the  crimson  sunsets  of  the  golden  West, 
and  his  heart  thrilled  at  the  sight  of  them. 

It  was  long  after  twelve  o'clock,  and  an  ad 
journment  for  dinner  was  ordered.  Harold  was 
about  to  be  led  away  when  his  father  came  to 
him  and  said: 

44 


The  Trial 

"  Harold,  would  you  like  to  have  your 
mother  and  me  go  to  dinner  with  you?  " 

With  that  same  unrelenting,  stubborn  frown 
on  his  face  the  boy  replied:  "  No — let  me 
alone." 

A  hot  flush  swept  over  the  preacher's  face. 
"  Very  well,"  he  said,  and  turned  away,  his  lips 
twitching. 

The  jury  was  not  long  out.  They  were 
ready  to  report  at  three  o'clock.  Every  seat  was 
filled  as  before.  The  lawyers  came  in,  picking 
their  teeth  or  smoking.  The  ladies  were  in 
Sunday  dress,  the  young  men  were  accom 
panied  by  their  girls,  as  if  the  trial  were  a 
dramatic  entertainment.  Those  who  failed  of 
regaining  their  seats  were  much  annoyed;  others, 
more  thrifty,  had  hired  boys  to  keep  their  places 
for  them  during  the  noon  hour,  and  others,  still 
more  determined,  having  brought  lunches,  had 
remained  in  their  seats  throughout  the  inter 
mission,  and  were  serene  and  satisfied. 

Harold  was  brought  back  to  his  seat  look 
ing  less  haggard.  He  was  not  afraid  of  sen 
tence;  on  the  contrary  he  longed  to  have  the 
suspense  end. 

"  I  don't  care  what  they  do  with  me  if  they 

don't  use  up  too  much  of  my  life,"  he  said  to 

Jack.     "  I'll  pound  rock  or  live  in  a  dungeon 

if  it  will  only  shorten  my  sentence.     I  hate  to 

45 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

think  of  losing  time.  Oh,  if  I  had  only  gone 
last  year!  " 

The  Reverend  Excell  came  in,  looming  high 
above  the  crowd,  his  face  still  white  and  set.  He 
paid  no  heed  to  his  parishioners,  but  made  his 
way  to  the  side  of  Lawyer  Brown.  The  judge 
mounted  his  bench  and  the  court  room  came 
to  order  instantly. 

"  Is  the  jury  ready  to  report  on  the  case 
of  the  State  vs.  Excell?  "  he  asked  in  a  low 
voice.  He  was  informed  that  they  were  agreed. 
After  the  jury  had  taken  their  seats  he  said 
blandly,  mechanically:  "  Gentlemen,  we  are  ready 
for  your  verdict." 

Harold  knew  the  foreman  very  well.  He 
was  a  carpenter  and  joiner  in  whose  shop  he 
had  often  played — a  big,  bluff,  good-hearted 
man  whom  any  public  speaking  appalled,  and 
who  stammered  badly  as  he  read  from  a  little 
slip  of  paper:  "  Guilty  of  assault  with  intent  to 
commit  great  bodily  injury,  but  recommended 
to  the  mercy  of  the  judge."  Then,  with  one 
hand  in  his  breeches  pocket,  he  added:  "  Be 
easy  on  him,  judge;  I  believe  I'd  'a'  done  the 
same." 

The  spectators  tittered  at  his  abrupt  change 
of  tone,  and  some  of  the  young  people  ap 
plauded.  He  sat  down  very  hot  and  red. 

The  judge  did  not  smile  or  frown;  his  ex- 


The  Trial 

pressionless  face  seemed  more  like  a  mask  than 
ever.  When  he  began  to  speak  it  was  as  though 
he  were  reading  something  writ  in  huge  letters 
on  a  distant  wall. 

"  The  Court  is  quite  sensible  of  the  extenu 
ating  circumstances  attending  this  sad  case,  but 
there  are  far-reaching  considerations  which  the 
Court  can  not  forget.  Here  is  a  youth  of  good 
family,  who  elects  to  take  up  a  life  filled  with 
mischief  from  the  start.  Discipline  has  been 
lacking.  Here,  at  last,  he  so  far  oversteps  thfc 
law  that  he  appears  before  a  jury.  It  seems  to 
the  Court  necessary,  for  this  young  man's  own 
good,  that  he  feel  the  harsh  hand  of  the  law. 
According  to  the  evidence  adduced  here  to-day, 
he  has  been  for  years  beyond  the  control  of  his 
parents,  and  must  now  know  the  inflexible  pur 
pose  of  law.  I  have  in  mind  all  that  can  be  said 
in  his  favor:  his  youth,  the  disparity  of  age  and 
physical  power  between  himself  and  his  accuser, 
the  provocation,  and  the  possession  of  the  whip 
by  the  accuser — but  all  these  are  more  than 
counterbalanced  by  the  record  of  mischief  and 
violence  which  stands  against  the  prisoner." 

There  was  a  solemn  pause,  and  the  judge 
sternly  said:  "  Prisoner,  stand  up."  Harold 
arose.  "  For  an  assault  committed  upon  the 
person  of  one  Clinton  Slocum,  I  now  sentence 
you,  Harold  Excell,  to  one  year  in  the  peni- 
47 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

tentiary,  and  may  you  there  learn  to  respect  the 
life  and  property  of  your  fellow-citizens." 

"Judge!  I  beg "  The  tall  form  of  Mr. 

Excell  arose,  seeking  to  speak. 

The  judge  motioned  him  to  silence. 

Brown  interposed:  "  I  hope  the  court  will 
not  refuse  to  hear  the  father  of  the  prisoner.  It 
would  be  scant  justice  if " 

Mr.  Excell's  voice  arose,  harsh,  stern,  and 
quick.  He  spoke  like  the  big  man  he  was,  firm 
and  decided.  Harold  looked  up  at  him  in  sur 
prise. 

"I  claim  the  right  to  be  heard;  will  the 
Court  refuse  me  the  privilege  of  a  word?  "  His 
voice  was  a  challenge.  "  I  am  known  in  this 
community.  For  seven  years  as  a  minister  of 
the  Gospel  I  have  lived  among  these  citizens. 
My  son  is  about  to  be  condemned  to  State's 
prison,  and  before  he  goes  I  want  to  make  a 
statement  here  before  him  and  before  the  judge 
and  before  the  world.  I  understand  this  boy 
better  than  any  of  you,  better  than  the  mother 
who  bore  him,  for  I  have  given  him  the  disposi 
tion  which  he  bears.  I  have  had  from  my  youth 
the  same  murderous  rages:  I  have  them  yet.  I 
love  my  son,  your  Honor,  and  I  would  take  him 
in  my  arms  if  I  could,  but  he  has  too  much  of 
my  own  spirit.  He  literally  can  not  meet  me 
as  an  affectionate  son,  for  I  sacrificed  his  good- 


The  Trial 

will  by  harsh  measures  while  he  was  yet  a  babe. 
I  make  this  confession  in  order  that  the  Court 
may  understand  my  relation  to  my  son.  He 
was  born  with  my  own  temper  mingled  with  the 
poetic  nature  of  his  mother.  While  he  was  yet 
a  lad  I  beat  him  till  he  was  discolored  by  bruises. 
Twice  I  would  have  killed  him  only  for  the  in 
tervention  of  my  wife.  I  have  tried  to  live 
down  my  infirmity,  your  Honor,  and  I  have  at 
last  secured  control  of  myself,  and  I  believe  this 
boy  will  do  the  same,  but  do  not  send  him  to  be 
an  associate  with  criminals.  My  God!  do  not 
treat  him  as  I  would  not  do,  even  in  my  worst 
moments.  Give  him  a  chance  to  reform  outside 
State's  prison.  Don't  fix  on  him  that  stain.  I 
will  not  say  send  me — that  would  be  foolish 
trickery — but  I  beg  you  to  make  some  other 
disposition  of  this  boy  of  mine.  If  he  goes  to 
the  penitentiary  I  shall  strip  from  my  shoulders 
the  dress  of  the  clergyman  and  go  with  him,  to 
be  near  to  aid  and  comfort  him  during  the  term 
of  his  sentence.  Let  the  father  in  you  speak 
for  me,  judge.  Be  merciful,  as  we  all  hope  for 
mercy  on  the  great  day,  for  Jesus'  sake." 

The  judge  looked  out  over  the  audience  of 
weeping  women  and  his  face  warmed  into  life. 
He  turned  to  the  minister,  who  still  stood  before 
him  with  hand  outstretched,  and  when  he  spoke 
his  voice  was  softened  and  his  eyes  kindly. 
49 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

"  The  Court  has  listened  to  the  words  of  the 
father  with  peculiar  interest.  The  Court  is  a 
father,  and  has  been  at  a  loss  to  understand  the 
relations  existing  between  father  and  son  in  this 
case.  The  Court  thinks  he  understands  them 
better  now.  As  counsel  for  the  defense  has  said, 
I  am  an  old  man,  soon  to  leave  my  seat  upon  the 
bench,  and  I  do  not  intend  to  let  foolish  pride 
or  dry  legal  formalities  stand  between  me  and 
the  doing  of  justice.  The  jury  has  decided  that 
the  boy  is  guilty,  but  has  recommended  him  to 
the  mercy  of  the  Court.  The  plea  of  the  father 
has  enlightened  the  Court  on  one  or  two  most 
vital  points.  Nothing  is  further  from  the  mind 
of  the  Court  than  the  desire  to  do  injury  to  a 
handsome  and  talented  boy.  Believing  that  the 
father  and  son  are  about  to  become  more  closely 
united,  the  Court  here  transmutes  the  sentence 
to  one  hundred  dollars  fine  and  six  months  in 
the  county  jail.  This  will  make  it  possible  for 
the  son  and  father  to  meet  often,  and  the  father 
can  continue  his  duties  to  the  church.  This  the 
Court  decides  upon  as  the  final  disposition  of  the 
accused.  The  case  is  closed.  Call  the  next 
case." 


50 


CHAPTER   V 
THE  EAGLE'S  EYES  GROW  DIM 

THE  county  jail  in  Cedar  County  was  a  plain, 
brick  structure  set  in  the  midst  of  the  Court 
House  Square.  Connected  with  it  was  the  of 
ficial  residence  of  the  sheriff,  and  brick  walks 
ran  diagonally  from  corner  to  corner  for  the  con 
venience  of  citizens.  Over  these  walks  magnifi 
cent  maples  flung  gorgeous  banners  in  autumn, 
and  it  was  a  favorite  promenade  for  the  young 
people  of  the  town  at  all  seasons,  even  in  winter. 

At  times  when  the  jail  was  filled  with  dis 
orderly  inmates  these  innocent  lovers  could  hear 
the  wild  yells  and  see  the  insulting  gestures  of 
the  men  at  the  windows,  but  ordinarily  the 
grounds  were  quiet  and  peaceful.  The  robins 
nested  in  the  maples,  the  squirrels  scampered 
from  tree  to  tree,  and  little  children  tumbled 
about  on  the  grass,  unmindful  of  the  sullen  cap 
tives  within  the  walls. 

For  seven  years  Harold  himself  had  played 
about  this  yard,  hearing  the  wild  voices  of  the 
prisoners  and  seeing  men  come  and  go  in  irons. 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

Over  these  walks  he  had  loitered  with  Dot — 
now  he  was  one  of  those  who  clawed  at  the  win 
dow  bars  like  monkeys  in  a  cage  in  order  to  look 
out  at  the  sunshine  of  the  world.  The  jail  pallor 
was  already  on  his  face  and  a  savage  look  was  in 
his  eyes.  He  refused  to  see  anyone  but  Jack, 
who  came  often  and  whose  coming  saved  him 
from  despair. 

In  one  respect  the  county  jail  was  worse  than 
the  State's  prison;  it  had  nothing  for  its  cap 
tives  to  do.  They  ate,  amused  themselves  as 
best  they  could  through  the  long  day,  and  slept. 
Most  of  them  brooded,  like  Harold,  on  the  sun 
shine  lost  to  them,  and  paced  their  cells  like  wild 
animals.  It  had,  however,  the  advantage  of 
giving  to  each  man  a  separate  bed  at  night, 
though  during  the  day  they  occupied  a  common 
corridor.  Some  of  them  sang  indecent  songs 
and  cursed  their  fellows  for  their  stupidity,  and 
fights  were  not  uncommon. 

The  jailer  was  inclined  to  allow  Harold  more 
liberty  after  his  trial,  but  the  boy  said:  "  I'm  not 
asking  any  favors  from  you.  I'm  working  out 
a  sentence." 

He  continued  his  systematic  exercise,  eating 
regularly  and  with  care  in  order  that  he  should 
keep  his  health.  He  spent  several  hours  each 
day  leaping  up  the  stairway  which  led  from 
the  lower  cells  to  the  upper,  and  his  limbs  were 

52 


The  Eagle's  Eyes  Grow  Dim 

like  bundles  of  steel  rods.  He  could  spring 
from  the  floor,  catch  the  hand  rail  of  the  run 
way  above,  and  swing  himself  with  a  single  effort 
to  the  upper  cells.  Every  possible  combination 
of  strength  and  agility  which  the  slender  variety 
of  means  allowed  he  used,  and  not  one  of  all 
the  prisoners  cared  to  try  muscular  conclusions 
with  him.  Occasionally  a  new  prisoner  would 
experiment,  but  those  who  held  over  knew  bet 
ter  than  to  "  bother  the  kid."  When  a  rash  and 
doubting  man  tried  it,  he  repented  it  in  cotton 
cloth  and  arnica. 

The  only  way  in  which  Harold  could  be 
enticed  into  the  residence  part  of  the  jail  was  by 
sending  Jack  to  call  upon  him. 

At  such  times  the  jailer  gave  him  plenty  of 
time,  and  Harold  poured  forth  his  latest  plans 
in  a  swift  torrent.  He  talked  of  nothing  but 
the  West.  "  My  sentence  will  be  out  in  April," 
he  said;  "  just  the  right  time  to  go.  You  must 
make  all  arrangements  for  me,  old  man.  You 
take  my  money  and  get  these  things  for  me.  I 
want  a  six-shooter,  the  best  you  can  find,  the 
kind  they  use  out  on  the  plains,  and  a  belt  and 
ammunition.  I  want  a  valise — a  good  strong 
one;  and  I  want  you  to  put  all  my  clothes  in  it 
- — I  mean  my  underclothes — I  won't  need  cuffs 
and  collars  and  such  knickknacks  out  there.  I 
shall  never  enter  father's  door  again.  Then  I 
53 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

want  you  to  be  on  the  lookout  for  a  chance  to 
drive  cattle  for  somebody  going  West.  We'll 
find  chances  enough,  and  we'll  strike  for  Abilene 
and  your  uncle's  place.  I  haven't  money  enough 
to  carry  me  out  there  on  the  train.  Oh!  won't 
it  be  good  fun  when  we  have  a  good  horse  apiece 
and  go  riding  across  the  plains  herding  the  long- 
horns!  That's  life,  that  is!  If  I'd  only  gone 
last  year,  out  where  the  buffalo  and  the  antelope 
are!" 

At  such  times  the  eagle's  heart  in  the  youth 
could  scarcely  endure  the  pale,  cold  light  of  the 
prison.  For  an  hour  after  one  of  these  talks 
with  Jack  he  tore  around  his  cell  like  a  crazed 
wolf,  till  his  weary  muscles  absorbed  the  ache  in 
his  heart. 

During  the  winter  the  Young  Men's  Chris 
tian  Association  of  the  town  organized  what 
they  called  a  Prison  Rescue  Band,  which  held 
services  in  the  jail  each  Sunday  afternoon.  They 
were  a  great  bore  to  Harold,  who  knew  the 
members  of  the  band  and  disliked  most  of  them. 
He  considered  them  "  a  little  off  their  nut  " — 
that  is  to  say,  fanatic.  He  kept  his  cell  closely, 
and  the  devoted  ones  seldom  caught  a  glimpse 
of  him,  though  he  was  the  chief  object  of  their 
care.  They  sang  Pull  for  the  Shore,  Trust  it  all 
with  Jesus,  and  other  well-worn  Moody  and 
Sankey  hymns,  and  the  leader  prayed  resound- 

54 


The  Eagle's  Eyes  Grow  Dim 

ingly,  and  then,  one  by  one,  the  others  made 
little  talks  to  the  prison  walls.  There  was  sel 
dom  a  face  to  be  seen.  Muttered  curses  oc 
casionally  rumbled  from  the  cells  where  the  pris 
oners  were  trying  to  sleep. 

But  the  leader  was  a  shrewd  young  man,  and 
not  many  Sundays  after  his  initial  attempt  the 
prisoners  were  amazed  to  hear  female  voices 
joining  in  the  songs.  Heads  appeared  at  every 
door  to  see  the  girls,  who  stood  timidly  behind 
the  men  and  sang  (in  quavering  voices)  the 
songs  that  persuaded  to  grace. 

Some  of  these  girlish  messengers  of  mercy 
Harold  knew,  but  others  were  strange  to  him. 
The  seminary  was  in  session  again  and  new 
pupils  had  entered.  For  the  most  part  they 
were  colorless  and  plain,  and  the  prisoners  ceased 
to  show  themselves  during  the  singing.  Harold 
lay  on  his  iron  bed  dreaming  of  the  wild  lands 
whose  mountains  he  could  see  shining  through 
his  prison  walls.  Jack  had  purchased  for  him 
some  photographs  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and 
when  he  desired  to  forget  his  surroundings  he 
had  but  to  look  on  the  seamless  dome  of  Sierra 
Blanca  or  the  San  Francisco  peaks,  or  at  the 
image  of  the  limpid  waters  of  Trapper's  Lake, 
and  like  the  conjurer's  magic  crystal  sphere,  it 
cured  him  of  all  his  mental  maladies,  set  him  free 
and  a-horse. 

55 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

But  one  Sabbath  afternoon  he  heard  a  new 
voice,  a  girl's  voice,  so  sweet  and  tender  and  true 
he  could  not  forbear  to  look  out  upon  the  singer. 
She  was  small  and  looked  very  pale  under  the 
white  light  of  the  high  windows.  She  was  sing 
ing  alone,  a  wonderful  thing  in  itself,  and  in  her 
eyes  was  neither  fear  nor  maidenly  shrinking; 
she  was  indeed  thrillingly  absorbed  and  self-for 
getful.  There  was  something  singular  and  ar 
resting  in  the  poise  of  her  head.  Her  eyes 
seemed  to  look  through  and  beyond  the  prison 
walls,  far  into  some  finer,  purer  land  than  any 
earthly  feet  had  trod,  and  her  song  had  a  touch 
of  genuine  poetry  in  it: 

'*  If  I  were  a  voice,  a  persuasive  voice, 
That  could  travel  the  whole  earth  through, 
I  would  fly  on  the  wings  of  the  morning  light 
And  speak  to  men  with  a  gentle  might 
And  tell  them  to  be  true — 
If  I  were  a  voice." 

The  heart  of  the  boy  expanded.  Music  and 
poetry  and  love  were  waked  in  him  by  the  voice 
of  this  singing  girl.  To  others  she  was  merely 
simple  and  sweet;  to  him  she  was  a  messenger. 
The  vibrant,  wistful  cadence  of  her  voice  when 
she  uttered  the  words  "  And  tell  them  to  be 
true,"  dropped  down  into  the  boy's  sullen  and 
lonely  heart.  He  did  not  look  at  her,  but  all  the 
week  he  wondered  about  her.  He  thought  of 

56 


The  Eagle's  Eyes  Grow  Dim 

her  almost  constantly,  and  the  words  she  sang 
lay  in  his  ears,  soothing  and  healing  like  some 
subtle  Oriental  balm.  "  On  the  wings  of  the 
morning  light  "  was  one  haunting  phrase — 
the  other  was,  "  And  tell  them  to  be  true." 

The  other  prisoners  had  been  touched. 
Only  one  or  two  ventured  coarse  remarks  about 
her,  and  they  were  speedily  silenced  by  their 
neighbors.  Harold  was  eager  to  seek  Jack  in 
order  to  learn  the  girl's  name,  but  Jack  was  at 
home,  sick  of  a  cold,  and  did  not  visit  him  dur 
ing  the  week. 

On  the  following  Sunday  she  did  not  come, 
and  the  singing  seemed  suddenly  a  bitter  mock 
ery  to  Harold,  who  sought  to  solace  himself  with 
his  pictures.  The  second  week  wore  away  and 
Jack  came,  but  by  that  time  the  image  of  the 
girl  had  taken  such  aloofness  of  position  in 
Harold's  mind  that  he  dared  not  ask  about  her, 
even  of  his  loyal  chum. 

At  last  she  came  again,  and  when  she  had 
finished  singing  Not  half  has  ever  been  told, 
some  prisoner  started  hand  clapping,  and  a  volley 
of  applause  made  the  cells  resound.  The  girl 
started  in  dismay,  and  then,  as  she  understood 
the  meaning  of  this  noise,  a  beautiful  flush  swept 
over  her  face  and  she  shrank  swiftly  into  shadow. 

But  a  man  from  an  upper  cell  bawled:  "  Sing 
The  Voice,  miss!  sing  The  Voice!  " 

57 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

The  leader  of  the  band  said:  "  Sing  for  them, 
Miss  Yardwell." 

Again  she  sang  If  I  were  a  Voice,  and  out 
of  the  cells  the  prisoners  crept,  one  by  one,  and 
at  last  Harold.  She  did  not  see  him  till  she  had 
finished  the  last  verse,  and  then  he  stood  so  close 
to  her  he  could  have  touched  her,  and  his  solemn 
dark  eyes  burned  so  strangely  into  her  face  that 
she  shrank  away  from  him  in  awe  and  terror. 
She  knew  him — no  one  else  but  the  minister's  son 
could  be  so  handsome  and  so  refined  of  feature. 

"  You're  that  voice,  miss,"  one  of  the  men 
called  out. 

"  That's  right,"  replied  the  others  in  chorus. 

The  girl  was  abashed,  but  the  belief  that  she 
was  leading  these  sinners  to  a  merciful  Saviour 
exalted  her  and  she  sang  again.  Harold  crept 
as  near  as  he  could — so  near  he  could  see  her 
large  gray  eyes,  into  which  the  light  fell  as  into 
a  mountain  lake.  Every  man  there  perceived 
the  girl's  divine  purity  of  purpose.  She  was 
stainless  as  a  summer  cloud — a  passionless, 
serene  child,  with  the  religious  impulse  strong 
within  her.  She  could  not  have  been  more  than 
seventeen  years  of  age,  and  yet  so  dignified  and 
composed  was  her  attitude  she  seemed  a  ma 
ture  woman.  She  was  not  large,  but  she  was 
by  no  means  slight,  and  though  colorless,  her 
pallor  was  not  that  of  ill  health. 

53 


The  Eagle's  Eyes  Grow  Dim 

Her  body  resembled  that  of  a  sturdy  child, 
straight  in  the  back,  wide  in  the  waist,  and 
meager  of  bosom. 

Her  voice  and  her  eyes  subdued  the  beast  in 
the  men.  An  indefinable  personal  quality  ran 
through  her  utterance,  a  sadness,  a  sympathy, 
and  an  intuitive  comprehension  of  the  sin  of  the 
world  unusual  in  one  so  young.  She  had  been 
carefully  reared:  that  was  evident  in  every  ges 
ture  and  utterance.  Her  dress  was  a  studiously 
plain  gray  gown,  not  without  a  little  girlish  or 
nament  at  the  neck  and  bosom.  Every  detail  of 
her  lovely  personality  entered  Harold's  mind 
and  remained  there.  He  had  hardly  reached 
the  analytic  stage  in  matters  of  this  kind,  but  he 
knew  very  well  that  this  girl  was  like  her  song; 
she  could  die  but  never  deceive.  He  wondered 
what  her  first  name  could  be;  no  girl  like  that 
would  be  called  "  Dot"  or  "  Cad."  It  ought 
to  be  Lily  or  Marguerite.  He  was  glad  to  hear 
one  of  the  girls  call  her  Mary. 

He  gazed  at  her  almost  without  ceasing,  but 
as  the  other  convicts  did  the  same  he  was  not 
observably  devoted,  and  whenever  she  raised  her 
big,  clear  eyes  toward  him  both  shrank,  he 
from  a  sense  of  unworthiness,  she  from  the  in 
stinctive  fear  of  men  which  a  young  girl  of  her 
type  has  deep-planted  within  her.  She  studied 
him  shyly  when  she  dared,  and  after  the  first 
5  59 


The  Eagles  Heart 

song  sang  only  for  him.  She  prayed  for  him 
when  the  Band  knelt  on  the  stone  floor,  and  at 
night  in  her  room  she  plead  for  him  before 
God. 

The  boy  was  smitten  with  a  sudden  sense  of 
his  crime,  not  in  the  way  of  a  repentant  sinner, 
but  as  one  who  loves  a  sweet  and  gentle  woman. 
All  that  his  father's  preaching  and  precept  could 
not  do,  all  that  the  judge,  jury,  and  prison  could 
not  do,  this  slip  of  a  girl  did  with  a  glance  of 
her  big  gray  eyes  and  the  tremor  of  her  voice  in 
song.  All  his  misdeeds  arose  up  suddenly  as  a 
wall  between  him  and  the  girl  singer.  His  hard 
heart  melted.  The  ugly  lines  went  out  of  his 
face  and  it  grew  boyish  once  more,  but  sadder 
than  ever. 

His  was  not  a  nature  to  rest  inactive.  He 
poured  out  a  hundred  questions  to  Jack  who 
could  not  answer  half  a  dozen  of  them.  "  Who 
is  she?  Where  does  she  live?  Do  you  know 
her?  Is  she  a  good  scholar?  Does  she  go  to 
church?  I  hope  she  don't  talk  religion.  Does 
she  go  to  parties?  Does  she  dance?  " 

Jack  replied  as  well  as  he  was  able.  "  She's 
a  queer  kind  of  a  girl.  She  don't  dance  or  go  to 
parties  at  all.  She's  an  awful  fine  scholar.  She 
sings  in  the  choir.  Most  of  the  boys  are  afraid 
to  speak  to  her,  she's  so  distant.  She  just  says 
'  Yes,'  or  '  No/  when  you  ask  her  anything. 
60 


The  Eagle's  Eyes  Grow  Dim 

She's  religious — goes  to  prayer  meeting  and 
Sunday  school.  About  a  dozen  boys  go  to 
prayer  meeting  just  because  she  goes  and  sings. 
Her  folks  live  in  Waverly,  but  she  boards  with 
her  aunt,  Mrs.  Brown.  Now,  that's  all  I  can 
tell  you  about  her.  She's  in  some  of  my  classes, 
but  I  dassent  talk  to  her." 

"  Jack,  she's  the  best  and  grandest  girl  I  ever 
saw.  I'm  going  to  write  to  her." 

Jack  wistfully  replied:  "  I  wish  you  was  out 
o'  here,  old  man." 

Harold  became  suddenly  optimistic.  "Never 
you  mind,  Jack.  It  won't  be  long  till  I  am. 
I'm  going  to  write  to  her  to-day.  You  get  a 
pencil  and  paper  for  me  quick." 

Jack's  admiration  of  Harold  was  too  great 
to  admit  of  any  question  of  his  design.  He 
would  have  said  no  one  else  was  worthy  to  tie 
Mary's  shoe,  for  he,  too,  worshiped  her — but 
afar  off.  He  was  one  of  those  whom  women 
recognize  only  as  gentle  and  useful  beings,  plain 
and  unobtrusive. 

He  brought  the  pad  and  pencil  and  sat  by 
while  the  letter  was  written.  Harold's  was  not 
a  nature  of  finedrawn  distinctions;  he  wrote  as 
he  fought,  swift  and  determined,  and  the  letter 
was  soon  finished,  read,  and  approved  by  Jack. 

"  Now,  don't  you  let  anybody  see  you  give 
that  to  her,"  Harold  said  in  parting. 
61 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

"  Trust  me,"  Jack  stanchly  replied,  and  both 
felt  that  here  was  business  of  greatest  impor 
tance.  Jack  proceeded  at  once  to  walk  on  the 
street  which  led  past  Mary's  boarding  place,  and 
hung  about  the  corner,  in  the  hope  of  meeting 
Mary  on  her  return  from  school.  He  knew  very 
exactly  her  hours  of  recitation  and  at  last  she 
came,  her  arms  filled  with  books,  moving  with 
such  stately  step  she  seemed  a  woman,  tall  and 
sedate.  She  perceived  Jack  waiting,  but  was  not 
alarmed,  for  she  comprehended  something  of  his 
goodness  and  timidity. 

He  took  off  his  cap  with  awkward  formality. 
"  Miss  Yardwell,  may  I  speak  with  you  a  mo 
ment?" 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Burns,"  she  replied,  quite  as 
formally  as  he. 

He  fell  into  step  with  her  and  walked  on. 

"You  know — my  chum — "  he  began,  breath 
ing  hard,  "  my  chum,  Harry  Excell,  is  in  jail. 
You  see,  he  had  a  fight  with  a  great  big  chap, 
Clint  Slocum,  and  Clint  struck  Harry  with  a 
whip.  Of  course  Harry  couldn't  stand  that 
and  he  cut  Clint  with  his  knife;  of  course  he 
had  to  do  it,  for  you  see  Clint  was  big  as  two 
of  him  and  he'd  just  badgered  the  life  out  of 
Harry  for  a  month,  and  so  they  jugged  Harry, 
and  he's  there — in  jail — and  I  suppose  you've 
seen  him;  he's  a  fine-looking  chap,  dark  hair, 
63 


The  Eagle's  Eyes  Grow  Dim 

well  built.  He's  a  dandy  ball  player  and 
skates  bully;  I  wish  you  could  see  him  shoot. 
We're  going  out  West  together  when  he  gets 
out  o'  jail.  Well,  he  saw  you  and  he  liked  you, 
and  he  wrote  you  a  letter  and  wanted  me  to 
hand  it  to  you  when  no  one  was  looking.  Here 
it  is:  hide  it,  quick." 

She  took  the  letter,  mechanically  moved  to 
do  so  by  his  imperative  voice  and  action,  and 
slipped  it  into  her  algebra.  When  she  turned 
to  speak  Jack  was  gone,  and  she  walked  on, 
flushed  with  excitement,  her  breath  shortened 
and  quickened.  She  had  a  fair  share  of  woman's 
love  of  romance  and  of  letters,  and  she  hurried 
a  little  in  order  that  she  might  the  sooner  read 
the  message  of  the  dark-eyed,  pale  boy  in  the 
jail. 

It  was  well  she  did  not  meet  Mrs.  Brown  as 
she  entered,  for  the  limpid  gray  of  her  eyes  was 
clouded  with  emotion.  She  climbed  the  stairs 
to  her  room  and  quickly  opened  the  note.  It 
began  abruptly: 

"DEAR  FRIEND:  It  is  mighty  good  of  you 
to  come  and  sing  to  us  poor  cusses  in  jail.  I 
hope  you'll  come  every  Sunday.  I  like  you. 
You  are  the  best  girl  I  ever  saw.  Don't  go  to 
my  father's  church,  he  ain't  good  enough  to 
preach  to  you.  I  like  you  and  I  don't  want  you 
63 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

to  think  I'm  a  hard  case.  I  used  up  Clint  Slo- 
cum  because  I  had  to.  He  had  hectored  me 
about  enough.  He  said  some  mean  things 
about  me  and  some  one  else,  and  I  soaked  him 
once  with  my  fist.  He  struck  me  with  the  whip 
and  downed  me,  then  a  kind  of  a  cloud  came  into 
my  mind  and  I  guess  I  soaked  him  with  my 
knife,  too.  Anyhow  they  jugged  me  for  it.  I 
don't  care,  I'd  do  it  again.  I'd  cut  his  head  off 
if  he  said  anything  about  you.  Well,  now  I'm 
in  here  and  I'm  sorry  because  I  don't  want  you 
to  think  I'm  a  tough.  I've  done  a  whole  lot  of 
things  I  had  not  ought  to  have  done,  but  I  never 
meant  to  do  anyone  any  harm. 

"  Now,  I'm  going  West  when  I  get  out. 
I'm  going  into  the  cattle  business  on  the  great 
plains,  and  I'm  going  to  be  a  rich  man,  and  then 
I'm  going  to  come  back.  I  hope  you  won't  get 
married  before  that  time  for  I'll  have  something 
to  say  to  you.  If  you  run  across  any  pictures  of 
the  mountains  or  the  plains  I  wisht  you'd  send 
them  on  to  me.  Next  to  you  I  like  the  life  in 
the  plains  better  than  anything. 

"  I  hope  you'll  come  every  Sunday  till  I  get 
out.  Yours  respec'fly, 

"  HAROLD  EXCELL. 

"  Jack  will  give  this  to  you.  Jack  is  my 
chum;  I'd  trust  him  with  my  life.  He's  all 
wool." 

64 


The  Eagle's  Eyes  Grow  Dim 

The  girl  sat  a  long  time  with  the  letter  in 
her  hand.  She  was  but  a  child,  after  all,  and  the 
lad's  words  alarmed  and  burdened  her,  for  the 
meaning  of  the  letter  was  plain.  It  was  a  mes 
sage  of  love  and  admiration,  and  though  it  con 
tained  no  subleties,  it  came  from  one  who  was  in 
jail,  and  she  had  been  taught  to  regard  people  in 
jail  as  lost  souls,  aliens  with  whom  it  was  danger 
ous  to  hold  any  intercourse,  save  in  prayer  and 
Scripture.  The  handsome  boy  with  the  sad  face 
had  appealed  to  her  very  deeply,  and  she  bore 
him  in  her  thoughts  a  great  deal;  but  now  he 
came  in  a  new  guise — as  a  lover,  bold,  out 
spoken,  and  persuasive. 

"  What  shall  I  do?  Shall  I  tell  Aunt  Lida?  " 
she  asked  herself,  and  ended  by  kneeling  down 
and  praying  to  Jesus  to  give  the  young  man  a 
new  heart. 

In  this  fashion  the  courtship  went  on.  No 
one  knew  of  it  but  Jack,  for  Mary  could  not 
bring  herself  to  confide  in  anyone,  not  even  her 
mother,  it  all  seemed  too  strange  and  beautiful. 
It  was  God's  grace  working  through  her,  and 
her  devoutness  was  not  without  its  human  mix 
ture  of  girlish  pride  and  exaltation.  She  wor 
shiped  him  in  her  natural  moments,  and  in 
her  moments  of  religious  fervor  she  prayed  for 
him  with  impersonal  anguish  as  for  a  lost  soul. 
She  did  not  consider  him  a  criminal,  but  she 

65 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

thought  him  Godless  and  rebellious  toward  his 
Saviour. 

She  wrote  him  quaint,  formal  little  notes, 
which  began  abruptly,  "  My  Friend."  They 
contained  much  matter  which  was  hortatory, 
but  at  times  she  became  girlish  and  very  charm 
ing.  Gradually  she  dropped  the  tone  which  she 
had  caught  from  revivalists  and  wrote  of  her 
studies  and  of  the  doings  of  each  member  of  the 
class,  and  all  other  subjects  which  a  young  girl 
finds  valuable  material  of  conversation.  She 
was  just  becoming  acquainted  with  Victor 
Hugo  and  his  resounding,  antithetic  phrases, 
and  his  humanitarian  outcries  filled  her  mind 
with  commotion.  Her  heart  swelled  high  with 
resolution  to  do  something  to  help  the  world  in 
general  and  Harold  in  particular. 

She  was  not  one  in  whom  passion  ruled;  the 
intellectual  dominated  the  passional  in  her,  and, 
besides,  she  was  only  a  child.  She  was  by  no 
means  as  mature  as  Harold,  although  about  the 
same  age.  Naturally  reverent,  she  had  been 
raised  in  a  family  where  religious  observances 
never  remitted;  where  grace  was  always  spoken. 
In  this  home  her  looks  were  seldom  alluded  to 
in  any  way,  and  vanity  was  not  in  her.  She  had 
her  lovelinesses;  her  hair  was  long  and  fair,  her 
eyes  were  beautiful,  and  her  skin  was  of  exquisite 
purity,  like  her  eyes.  Her  charm  lay  in  her 
66 


The  Eagle's  Eyes  Grow  Dim 

modesty  and  quaint  dignity,  her  grave  and  gen 
tle  gaze,  and  in  her  glorious  voice. 

The  Reverend  Excell  was  pleased  to  hear 
that  his  son  was  bearing  confinement  very  well, 
and  made  another  effort  to  see  him.  Simply  be 
cause  Mary  wished  it,  Harold  consented  to  see 
his  father,  and  they  held  a  long  conversation,  at 
least  the  father  talked  and  the  boy  listened.  In 
effect,  the  minister  said: 

"  My  son,  I  have  forfeited  your  good  will — 
that  I  know — but  I  think  you  do  me  an  in 
justice.  I  know  you  think  I  am  a  liar  and  a 
hypocrite  because  you  have  seen  me  in  rages  and 
because  I  have  profaned  God  in  your  presence. 
My  boy,  let  me  tell  you,  in  every  man  there  are 
two  natures.  When  one  is  uppermost,  actions 
impossible  to  the  other  nature  become  easy. 
You  will  know  this,  you  should  know  it  now,  for 
in  you  there  is  the  same  murderous  madman  that 
is  in  me.  You  must  fight  him  down.  I  love 
you,  my  son,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  was  deep 
and  tremulous,  "  and  it  hurts  me  to  have  you 
stand  aloof  from  me.  I  have  tried  to  do  my 
duty.  I  have  almost  succeeded  in  putting  my 
worst  self  under  my  feet,  and  I  think  if  you  were 
to  come  to  understand  me  you  would  not  be  so 
hard  toward  me.  It  is  not  a  little  thing  to  me 
that  you,  my  only  son,  turn  your  face  away  from 
me.  On  the  day  of  your  trial  I  thought  we 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

came  nearer  to  an  understanding  than  in  many 
years." 

Harold  felt  the  justice  of  his  father's  plea  and 
his  heart  swelled  with  emotion,  but  something 
arose  up  between  his  heart  and  his  lips  and  he 
remained  silent. 

Mr.  Excell  berit  his  great,  handsome  head 
and  plead  as  a  lover  pleads,  but  the  pale  lad, 
with  bitter  and  sullen  mien,  listened  in  silence. 
At  last  the  father  ended;  there  was  a  pause. 

"  I  want  you  to  come  home  when  your  term 
ends,"  he  said.  "  Will  you  promise  that?  " 

Harold  said,  "  No,  I  can't  do  that.  I'm  go 
ing  out  West." 

"  I  shall  not  prevent  you,  my  son,  but  I  want 
you  to  come  and  take  your  place  at  the  table 
just  once.  There  is  a  special  reason  for  this. 
Will  you  come  for  a  single  day?  " 

Harold  forced  himself  to  answer,  "  Yes." 

Mr.  Excell  raised  his  head. 

"  Let  us  shake  hands  over  your  promise,  my 
boy." 

Harold  arose  and  they  shook  hands.  The 
father's  eyes  were  wet  with  tears.  "  I  can't 
afford  to  forfeit  your  good  opinion,"  Mr.  Excell 
went  on,  "  especially  now  when  you  are  leaving 
me,  perhaps  forever.  I  think  you  are  right  in 
going.  There  is  no  chance  for  you  here;  per 
haps  out  there  in  the  great  West  you  may  get  a 
68 


The  Eagle's  Eyes  Grow  Dim 

start.  Of  my  shortcomings  as  a  father  you 
know,  and  I  suppose  you  can  never  love  me  as  a 
son  should,  but  I  think  you  will  see  some  day 
that  I  am  not  a  hypocrite,  and  that  I  failed  as  a 
father  more  through  neglect  and  passion  than 
through  any  deliberate  injustice." 

The  boy  struggled  for  words  to  express  him 
self;  at  last  he  burst  forth:  "  I  don't  blame  you 
at  all,  only  let  me  go  where  I  can  do  something 
worth  while:  you  bother  me  so." 

The  minister  dropped  his  son's  hand  and  a 
look  of  the  deepest  sadness  came  over  his  face. 
He  had  failed — Harold  was  farther  away  from 
him  than  ever.  He  turned  and  went  out  with 
out  another  word. 

That  he  had  hurt  his  father  Harold  knew, 
but  in  exactly  what  other  way  he  could  have 
acted  he  could  not  tell.  The  overanxiety  on 
the  father's  part  irritated  the  boy.  Had  he  been 
less  morbid,  less  self-accusing,  he  would  have 
won.  Harold  passionately  loved  strength  and 
decision,  especially  in  a  big  man  like  his  father, 
who  looked  like  a  soldier  and  a  man  of  action, 
and  who  ought  not  to  cry  like  a  woman.  If 
only  he  would  act  all  the  time  as  he  did  when  he 
threw  the  sheriff  across  the  walk  that  day  on 
the  street.  "  I  wish  he'd  stop  preaching  and  go 
to  work  at  something,"  he  said  to  Jack.  The 
psychology  of  the  father's  attitude  toward  him 

69 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

was  incomprehensible.  He  could  get  along 
very  well  without  a  father;  why  could  not  his 
father  get  along  without  him?  He  hated  all 
this  fuss,  anyway.  It  only  made  him  feel  sorry 
and  perplexed,  and  he  wished  sincerely  that  his 
father  would  let  him  alone. 

Jack  brought  a  letter  from  Mary  which 
troubled  him. 

"  I  am  going  home  in  March,  a  week  before 
the  term  ends.  Mother  isn't  very  well,  and  just 
as  soon  as  I  can  I  must  go.  If  I  do,  you  must 
not  forget  me." 

Of  course  he  wrote  in  reply,  saying: 

"  Don't  you  go  till  I  see  you.  You  must 
come  in  and  see  me.  Can't  you  come  in  when 
Jack  does,  he  knows  all  about  us,  COME  SURE.  I 
can't  go  without  a  good-by  kiss.  Don't  you 
go  back  on  me  now.  Come." 

"  I'm  afraid  to  come,"  she  replied,  "  people 
would  find  out  everything  and  talk.  Besides 
you  mustn't  kiss  me.  We  are  not  regularly  en 
gaged,  and  so  it  would  not  be  right." 

"  We'll  be  engaged  in  about  two  minutes  if 
you'll  meet  me  with  Jack,"  he  replied.  "  You're 
the  best  girl  in  the  world  and  I'm  going  to  marry 
you  when  I  get  rich  enough  to  come  back  and 

70 
t     • 


The  Eagle's  Eyes  Grow  Dim 

build  you  a  house  to  be  in,  I'm  going  out  where 
the  cattle  are  thick  as  grasshoppers,  and  I'm  go 
ing  to  be  a  cattle  king  and  then  you  can  be  a 
cattle  queen  and  ride  around  with  me  on  our 
ranch,  that's  what  they  call  a  farm  out  there. 
Now,  you're  my  girl  and  you  must  wait  for  me  to 
come  back.  Don't  you  get  impatient,  some 
times  a  chap  has  a  hard  time  just  to  get  a  start, 
after  that  it's  easy.  Jack  will  go  with  me,  he  will 
be  my  friend  and  share  everything. 

"  Now  you  come  and  call  me  sweetheart  and 
I'll  call  you  angel,  for  that's  what  you  are.  Get 
to  be  a  great  singer,  and  go  about  the  country 
singing  to  make  men  like  me  good,  you  can  do 
it,  only  don't  let  them  fall  in  love  with  you, 
they  do  that  too  just  the  way  I  did,  but  don't 
let  'em  do  it  for  you  are  mine.  You're  my 
sweetheart.  From  your  sweetheart, 

"  HARRY  EXCELL,  Cattle  King." 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE    CAGE    OPENS 

BEFORE  Harold's  day  of  freedom  came  Mary 
was  called  home  by  a  telegram  from  her  father. 
She  longed  to  see  Harold  before  she  left,  but  she 
was  too  much  hurried  to  seek  out  Jack,  the  loyal 
go-between,  and  dared  not  send  a  letter  by  any 
other  hands.  She  went  away  without  sending 
him  a  word  of  good-by. 

So  it  happened  that  the  last  week  of  Harold's 
captivity  was  spent  in  loneliness  and  bitter  sor 
row,  and  even  when  Jack  came  he  brought  very 
little  information  concerning  Mary's  flight,  and 
Harold  was  bitter  and  accusing. 

"  Why  didn't  she  write  to  me?  Why  didn't 
she  come  to  see  me?  " 

Jack  pleaded  for  her  as  well  as  he  was  able. 
"  She  hadn't  time,  maybe." 

Harold  refused  to  accept  this  explanation. 
"  If  she  had  cared  for  me,  she'd  have  sent  me 
word — she  could  take  time  for  that." 

No  letter  came  in  the  days  which  followed, 
and  at  last  he  put  her  out  of  his  heart  and  turned 
72 


The  Cage  Opens 

his  face  to  the  sunset  land  which  now  called  to 
the  sad  heart  within  him  with  imperious  voice. 
Out  there  he  could  forget  all  his  hurts. 

On  the  morning  when  the  jailer  opened  the 
door  for  him  to  leave  the  iron  corridor  in  which 
he  had  spent  so  many  months,  his  father  met 
him,  and  the  white  face  of  the  boy  made  the 
father's  heart  contract.  Harold's  cheeks 
were  plump  and  boyish,  but  there  was  a  look 
in  his  face  which  made  him  seem  a  youth  of 
twenty. 

The  family  stood  in  the  jailer's  parlor  to  re 
ceive  him,  and  he  submitted  to  their  caresses 
with  cold  dignity.  His  manner  plainly  ex 
pressed  this  feeling:  "  You  are  all  strangers  to 
me."  But  he  turned  to  Jack  and  gripped  his 
hand  hard.  "  Now  for  the  plains!  " 

Side  by  side  the  father  and  son  passed  out 
into  the  sunshine.  The  boy  drew  an  audible 
breath,  as  if  in  sudden,  keen  pain.  Around  him 
lay  the  bare,  brown  earth  of  March.  The  sun 
was  warm  and  a  subtle  odor  of  lately  uncovered 
sward  was  in  the  air.  The  wind,  soft,  warm,  and 
steady,  blew  from  the  west.  Here  and  there  a 
patch  of  grass,  faintly  green,  showed  where  sul 
len  snow  banks  had  lately  lain.  And  the  sky! 
Filled  with  clouds  almost  as  fleecy  and  as  white 
as  June,  the  sky  covered  him,  and  when  he  raised 
his  eyes  to  it  he  saw  a  triangular  flock  of  geese 
73 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

sweeping  to  the  northwest,  serene  and  appar 
ently  effortless. 

He  could  not  speak — did  not  wish  to  hear 
any  speech  but  that  of  Nature,  and  the  father 
seemed  to  comprehend  his  son's  mood,  for  he, 
too,  walked  in  silence. 

The  people  of  the  village  knew  that  Harold 
was  to  return  to  freedom  that  day,  and  with  one 
excuse  or  another  they  came  to  the  doors  to  see 
him  pass.  Some  of  them  were  genuinely  sym 
pathetic,  and  bowed  and  smiled,  intending  to  say, 
"  Let  by-gones  be  by-gones,"  but  to  their  greet 
ings  Harold  remained  blankly  unresponsive. 
Jack  would  gladly  have  walked  with  Harold,  but 
out  of  consideration  for  the  father  fell  into  step 
behind. 

The  girls — some  of  them — had  the  grace  to 
weep  when  they  saw  Harold's  sad  face.  Others 
tittered  and  said:  "Ain't  he  awful  pale."  For 
the  most  part,  the  citizens  considered  his  pun 
ishment  sufficient,  and  were  disposed  to  give  him 
another  chance.  To  them,  Harold,  by  his  man 
ner,  intended  to  reply:  "  I  don't  want  any  fa 
vors.  I  won't  accept  any  chance  from  you.  I 
despise  you  and  I  don't  want  to  see  you  again." 

He  looked  upon  the  earth  and  the  sky  rather 
than  upon  the  faces  of  his  fellows.  His  natural 
love  of  Nature  had  been  intensified  by  his  cap 
tivity,  while  a  bitter  contempt  and  suspicion  of 

74 


The  Cage  Opens 

all  men  and  women  had  grown  up  in  his  mind. 
He  entered  his  father's  house  with  reluctance 
and  loathing. 

The  day  was  one  of  preparation.  Jack  had 
carried  out,  so  far  as  he  well  could,  the  captive's 
wishes.  His  gun,  his  clothing,  and  his  valise 
were  ready  for  him,  and  Mrs.  Excell  had  washed 
and  ironed  all  his  linen  with  scrupulous  care. 
His  sister  Maud  had  made  a  little  "  housewife  " 
for  him,  and  filled  it  with  buttons  and  needles 
and  thread,  a  gift  he  did  not  value,  even  from 
her. 

"  I'm  going  out  West  to  herd  cattle,  not  to 
cobble  trousers,"  he  said  contemptuously. 

Jack  had  a  report  to  make.  "  Harry,  I've 
found  a  chance  for  you,"  he  said  when  they  were 
alone.  "  There  was  a  man  moving  to  Colorado 
here  on  Saturday.  He  said  he  could  use  you, 
but  of  course  I  had  to  tell  him  you  couldn't  go 
for  a  few  days.  He's  just  about  to  Roseville 
now.  I'll  tell  you  what  you  do.  You  get  on 
the  train  and  go  to  Roseville — I'll  let  you  have 
the  money — and  you  strike  him  when  he  comes 
through.  His  name  is  Pratt.  He's  a  tall  old 
chap,  talks  queer.  Of  course  he  may  have  a 
hand  now,  but  anyway  you  must  get  out  o'  here. 
He  wouldn't  take  you  if  he  knew  you'd  been  in 
jail." 

"  Aren't  you  going?  "  asked  Harold  sharply. 
6  '  75 


The  Eagles  Heart 

Jack  looked  uneasy.  "  Not  now,  Harry. 
You  see,  I  want  to  graduate,  I'm  so  near 
through.  It  wouldn't  do  to  quit  now.  I'll 
stay  till  fall.  I'll  get  to  Uncle  John's  place 
about  the  time  you  do." 

Harold  said  no  more,  but  his  face  darkened 
with  disappointment. 

The  call  to  dinner  brought  them  all  together 
once  more,  and  the  minister's  grace  became  a 
short  prayer  for  the  safety  of  his  son,  broken 
again  and  again  by  the  weakness  of  his  own 
voice  and  by  the  sobs  of  Maud  and  Mrs.  Excell. 
Harold  sat  with  rigid  face,  fixed  in  a  frown. 
The  meal  proceeded  in  sad  silence,  for  each 
member  of  the  family  felt  that  Harold  was  leav 
ing  them  never  to  return. 

Jack's  plan  was  determined  upon,  and  after 
dinner  he  went  to  hitch  up  his  horse  to  take 
Harry  out  to  the  farm.  The  family  sat  in  pain 
ful  suspense  for  a  few  moments  after  Jack  went 
out,  and  then  Mr.  Excell  said: 

"  My  son,  we  have  never  been  friends,  and 
the  time  is  past  when  I  can  expect  to  win  your 
love  and  confidence,  but  I  hope  you  will  not 
go  away  with  any  bitterness  in  your  heart  to 
ward  me."  He  waited  a  moment  for  his  son 
to  speak,  but  Harold  continued  silent,  which 
again  confused  and  pained  the  father,  but  he 
went  on:  "  In  proof  of  what  I  say  I  want  to  offer 


The  Cage  Opens 

you  some  money  to  buy  a  horse  and  saddle  when 
you  need  them." 

"  I  don't  need  any  money,"  said  Harold,  a 
little  touched  by  the  affection  in  his  father's 
voice.  "  I  can  earn  all  the  money  I  need." 

"  Perhaps  so,  but  a  little  money  might  be 
useful  at  the  start.  You  will  need  a  horse  if 
you  herd  cattle." 

"  I'll  get  my  own  horse — you'll  need  all  you 
can  earn,"  said  Harold  in  reply. 

Mr.  Excell's  tone  changed.  "  What  makes 
you  say  that,  Harold?  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  mean  anything  in  particular." 

"  Have  you  heard  of  the  faction  which  is 
growing  up  in  the  church  against  me?  " 

Harold  hesitated.  "  Yes — but  I  wasn't 
thinking  of  that  particularly."  He  betrayed  a 
little  interest.  "  What's  the  matter  with  'em?  " 

"  There  has  been  an  element  in  the  church 
hostile  to  me  from  the  first,  and  during  your 
trial  and  sentence  these  persons  have  used  every 
effort  to  spread  a  feeling  against  me.  How  wide 
it  is  I  can  not  tell,  but  I  know  it  is  strong.  It 
may  end  my  work  here,  for  I  will  not  cringe 
to  them.  They  will  find  me  iron." 

Harold's  heart  warmed  suddenly.  Without 
knowing  it  the  father  had  again  struck  the  right 
note  to  win  his  son.  "  That's  right,"  the  boy 
said,  "  don't  let  'em  tramp  on  you." 

77 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

A  lump  arose  in  the  minister's  throat. 
There  was  something  very  sweet  in  Harold's 
sympathy.  His  eyes  smiled,  even  while  they 
were  dim  with  tears.  He  held  out  his  hand  and 
Harold  took  it. 

"  Well,  now,  my  son,  it's  time  for  you  to 
start.  Don't  you  worry  about  me.  I  am  a 
fighter  when  I  am  aroused." 

Harold  smiled  back  into  his  face,  and  so  it 
was  that  the  two  men  parted,  for  the  father,  in  a 
flash  of  insight,  understood  that  no  more  than 
this  could  be  gained;  but  his  heart  was  lighter 
than  it  had  been  for  many  months  as  he  saw  his 
son  ride  away  from  his  door. 

"  Write  often,  Harold,"  he  called  after  them. 

"  All  right.  You  let  me  know  how  the  fight 
comes  out.  If  they  whip  you,  come  out  West," 
was  Harold's  reply;  then  he  turned  in  his  seat. 
"  Drive  ahead,  Jack;  there's  no  one  now  but 
your  folks  for  whom  I  care." 

As  they  drove  out  along  the  muddy  lanes  the 
hearts  of  the  two  boys  became  very  tender. 
Harold,  filled  with  exaltation  by  every  familiar 
thing — by  the  flights  of  ground  sparrows,  by 
the  patches  of  green  grass,  by  the  smell  of  the 
wind,  by  the  infrequent  boom  of  the  prairie 
chickens — talked  incessantly. 

"  What  makes  me  maddest,"  he  broke  out, 
"  is  to  think  they've  cheated  me  out  of  seeing 
78 


The  Cage  Opens 

one  fall  and  one  winter.  I  didn't  see  the  geese 
fly  south,  and  now  here  they  are  all  going  north 
again.  Some  time  I  mean  to  find  out  where 
they  go  to."  He  took  off  his  hat.  "  This  wind 
will  mighty  soon  take  the  white  out  o'  me, 
won't  it?  "  He  was  very  gay.  He  slapped  his 
chum  on  the  shoulder  and  shouted  with  excite 
ment.  "  We  must  keep  going,  old  man,  till  we 
strike  the  buffalo.  They  are  the  sign  of  wild 
country  that  is  wild.  I  want  to  get  where  there 
ain't  any  fences." 

Jack  smiled  sadly  in  reply.  Harold  knew  he 
listened  and  so  talked  on.  "  I  must  work  up  a 
big  case  of  sunburn  before  I  strike  Mr.  Pratt  for 
a  job.  Did  he  have  extra  horses?  " 

"  'Bout  a  dozen.  His  girl  was  driving  the 
cattle,  but  he  said " 

"Girl?     What  kind  of  a  girl?  " 

"  Oh,  a  kind  of  a  tomboy,  freckled — chews 
gum  and  says  '  darn  it! '  That  kind  of  a  girl." 

Harold's  face  darkened.  "  I  don't  like  the 
idea  of  that  girl.  She  might  have  heard  some 
thing,  and  then  it  would  go  hard  with  me." 

"  Don't  you  worry.  The  Pratts  ain't  the 
kind  of  people  that  read  newspapers;  they  didn't 
stop  here  but  a  day,  anyhow." 

The  sight  of  Mr.  Burns  and  his  wife  at  the 
gate  moved  Harold  deeply.  Mrs.  Burns  came 
hurrying  out:  "You  blessed  boy!  Get  right 

79 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

down  and  let  me  hug  you,"  and  as  he  leaped 
down  she  put  her  arms  around  him  as  if  he  were 
her  own  son,  and  Harold's  eyes  smarted  with 
tears. 

"  I  declare,"  said  Mr.  Burns,  "  you  look  like 
a  fightin'  cock;  must  feed  you  well  down 
there?  " 

No  note  of  doubt,  hesitation,  concealment, 
or  shame  was  in  their  greetings  and  the  boy 
knew  it.  They  all  sat  around  the  kitchen,  and 
chatted  and  laughed  as  if  no  ill  thing  had  ever 
happened  to  him.  Burns  uttered  the  only 
doubtful  word  when  he  said:  "I  don't  know 
about  this  running  away  from  things  here.  I'd 
be  inclined  to  stay  here  and  fight  it  out." 

"  But  it  isn't  running  away,  Dad,"  said  Jack. 
"  Harry  has  always  wanted  to  go  West  and  now 
is  the  first  time  he  has  really  had  the  chance." 

"That's  so,"  admitted  the  father.  "Still, 
I'm  sorry  to  see  him  look  like  he  was  running 
away." 

Mrs.  Burns  was  determined  to  feed  Harry 
into  complete  torpor.  She  put  up  enough  food 
in  a  basket  to  last  him  to  San  Francisco  at  the 
shortest.  Even  when  the  boys  had  entered  the 
buggy  she  ordered  them  to  wait  while  she 
brought  out  some  sweet  melon  pickles  in  a  jar 
to  add  to  the  collection. 

"  Well,  now,  good-by,"  said  Harold,  reach- 
So 


The  Cage  Opens 

ing  down  his  hand  to  Mrs.  Burns,  who  seized  it 
in  both  hers. 

"  You  poor  thing,  don't  let  the  Indians  scalp 
ye." 

"  No  danger  o'  that,"  he  called  back. 

"  Be  good  to  yourself,"  shouted  Burns,  and 
the  buggy  rolled  through  the  gate  into  the  west 
as  the  red  sun  was  setting  and  the  prairie  cocks 
were  crowing. 

The  boys  talked  their  plans  all  over  again 
while  the  strong  young  horse  spattered  through 
the  mud.  Slowly  the  night  fell,  and  as  they 
rode  under  the  branches  of  the  oaks,  Jack  took 
courage  to  say : 

"  I  wish  Miss  Yardwell  had  been  here, 
Harry." 

"  It's  no  use  talking  about  her;  she  don't 
care  two  straws  for  me;  if  she  had  she  would 
have  written  to  me,  at  least." 

"  Her  mother  may  have  been  dying." 

"  Even  that  needn't  keep  her  from  letting  me 
know  or  sending  some  word.  She  didn't  care 
for  me — she  was  just  trying  to  convert  me." 

"  She  wasn't  the  kind  of  a  girl  who  flirts. 
By  jinks!  You  should  see  her  look  right 
through  the  boys  that  used  to  try  to  walk  home 
with  her  after  prayer  meeting.  They  never 
tried  it  a  second  time.  She's  a  wonder  that  way. 
One  strange  thing  about  her,  she  never  acts  like 
81 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

other  girls.  You  know  what  I  mean?  She's 
different.  She's  going  to  be  a  singer,  and  travel 
around  giving  concerts — she  told  me  so  once." 

Harold  was  disposed  to  be  fair.  "  I  don't 
want  anybody  to  feel  sorry  for  me.  I  suppose 
she  felt  that  way,  and  tried  to  help  me."  Here 
he  paused  and  his  voice  changed.  "  But  when 
I'm  a  cattle  king  out  West  and  can  buy  her  the 
best  home  in  Des  Moines — maybe  she  won't  pity 
me  so  much.  Anyhow,  there's  nothing  left  for 
me  but  to  emigrate.  There's  no  use  stayiri' 
around  here.  Out  there  is  the  place  for  me 
now." 

Jack  put  Harold  down  at  the  station  and 
turned  over  to  him  all  the  money  he  had  in  the 
world.  Harold  took  it,  saying: 

"  Now  you'll  get  this  back  with  interest,  old 
man.  I  need  it  now,  but  I  won't  six  months 
from  now.  I'm  going  to  strike  a  job  before 
long — don't  you  worry." 

Their  good-by  was  awkward  and  con 
strained,  and  Harold  felt  the  parting  more  keen 
ly  than  he  dared  to  show.  Jack  rode  away  cry 
ing — a  brother  could  not  have  been  more 
troubled.  It  seemed  that  the  bitterness  of 
death  was  in  this  good-by. 


82 


CHAPTER   VII 

ON    THE   WING 

WHEN  Harold  arose  the  next  morning  his 
cheeks  were  still  red  with  the  touch  of  the  wind 
and  sun  and  he  looked  like  a  college  student  just 
entering  upon  a  vacation.  His  grace  and  dig 
nity  of  bearing  set  him  apart  from  the  rough 
workmen  with  whom  he  ate,  and  he  did  not  ex 
change  a  single  word  with  anyone  but  the  land 
lord.  As  soon  as  breakfast  was  over  he  went 
out  into  the  town. 

Roseville  had  only  one  street,  and  it  was 
not  difficult  to  learn  that  Pratt  had  not  yet  ap 
peared  upon  the  scene.  It  was  essentially  a 
prairie  village;  no  tree  broke  the  smooth  hori 
zon  line.  A  great  many  emigrants  were  in  mo 
tion,  and  their  white-topped  wagons  suggested 
the  sails  of  minute  craft  on  the  broad  ocean  as 
they  came  slowly  up  the  curve  to  the  East  and 
fell  away  down  the  slope  to  the  West.  To  all 
of  these  Harold  applied  during  the  days  that  fol 
lowed,  but  received  no  offer  which  seemed  to 
promise  so  well  as  that  of  Mr.  Pratt,  so  he 
83 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

waited.  At  last  he  came,  a  tall,  sandy-bearded 
fellow,  who  walked  beside  a  four-horse  team 
drawing  two  covered  wagons  tandem.  Behind 
him  straggled  a  bunch  of  bony  cattle  and  some 
horses,  herded  by  a  girl  and  a  small  boy.  The 
girl  rode  a  mettlesome  little  pony,  sitting  side- 
wise  on  a  man's  saddle. 

"  Wai — I  d'n  know,"  the  old  man  replied 
in  answer  to  Harold's  question.  "  I  did  'low  fer 
to  get  some  help,  but  Jinnie  she  said  she'd  bring 
'em  along  fer  fifty  cents  a  day,  an'  she's  boss, 
stranger.  If  she's  sick  o'  the  job,  why,  I'll  make 
out  with  ye.  Jinnie,  come  here." 

Jinnie  rode  up,  eyeing  the  stranger  sharply. 
"What 'sup,  Dad?" 

!  "  Here's  another  young  fellow  after  your 
job." 

"  Well,  if  he'll  work  cheap  he  can  have  it," 
replied  the  girl  promptly.  "  I  don't  admire  to 
ride  in  this  mud  any  longer." 

Pratt  smiled.  "  I  reckon  that  lets  you  in, 
stranger,  ef  we  can  come  to  terms.  We  ain't 
got  any  money  to  throw  away,  but  we'll  do  the 
best  we  kin." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  you  do.  You  turn  that 
pony  and  saddle  over  to  me  when  we  get 
through,  and  I'll  call  it  square." 

"  Well,  I  reckon  you  won't,"  said  the  girl, 
throwing  back  her  sunbonnet  as  if  in  challenge. 


On  the  Wing 

"  That's  my  pony,  and  nobody  gets  him  without 
blood,  and  don't  you  forget  it,  sonny." 

She  was  a  large-featured  girl,  so  blonde  as  to 
be  straw-colored,  even  to  the  lashes  of  her  eyes, 
but  her  teeth  were  very  white,  and  her  lips  a 
vivid  pink.  She  had  her  father's  humorous 
smile,  and  though  her  words  were  bluff,  her  eyes 
betrayed  that  she  liked  Harold  at  once. 

Harold  smiled  back  at  her.  "  Well,  I'll  take 
the  next  best,  that  roan  there." 

The  boy  burst  into  wild  clamor:  "  Not  by  a 
darn  sight,  you  don't.  That's  my  horse,  an'  no 
sucker  like  you  ain't  goin'  to  ride  him,  nuther." 

"  Why  don't  you  ride  him?  "  asked  Harold. 

The  boy  looked  foolish.  "  I'm  goin'  to, 
some  day." 

"  He  can't,"  said  the  girl,  "  and  I  don't  think 
you  can." 

Pratt  grinned.  "  Wai,  you  see  how  it  is, 
youngster,  you  an'  me  has  got  to  get  down  to  a 
money  basis.  Them  young  uns  claim  all  my 
stawk." 

Harold  said:  "Pay  me  what  you  can,"  and 
Pratt  replied:  "  Wai,  throw  your  duds  into  that 
hind  wagon.  We've  got  to  camp  somewhere 
'fore  them  durn  critters  eat  up  all  the  fences." 

As  Harold  was  helping  to  unhitch  the  team 
the  girl  came  around  and  studied  him  with  care. 

"  Say,  what's  your  name?  " 

85 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

"  Moses,"  he  instantly  replied. 
"Moses  what?" 
"  Oh,  let  it  go  at  Mose." 
"  Hain't  you  got  no  other  name?  " 
"  I  did  have  but  the  wind  blew  it  away." 
"What  was  it?" 
"  Moses  N.  Hardluck." 
"  You're  terrible  cute,  ain't  you?  " 
"  Not  so  very,  or  I  wouldn't  be  working  for 
my  board." 

"  You  hain't  never  killed  yourself  with  hard 
work,  by  the  looks  o'  them  hands." 
"  Oh,  I've  been  going  to  school." 
"A'huh!     I    thought   you   had.     You   talk 
pretty  hifalutin'  fer  a  real  workin'  man.     I  tell 
ye  what  I  think — you're  a  rich  man's  son,  and 
you've  run  away." 

"Come,  gal,  get  that  coffee  bilin',"  called 
the  mother.  Mrs.  Pratt  was  a  wizened  little 
woman,  so  humped  by  labor  and  chills  and  fever 
that  she  seemed  deformed.  Her  querulousness 
was  not  so  much  ill-natured  as  plaintive. 

"  He  says  his  name  is  Mose  Hardluck," 
Harold  heard  the  girl  say,  and  that  ended  all 
further  inquiry.  He  became  simply  "  Mose  "  to 
them. 

There  was  a  satisfying  charm  to  the  business 
of  camping  out  which  now  came  to  be  the  regu 
lar  order  of  living  to  him.  By  day  the  cattle, 

86 


On  the  Wing 

thin  and  poor,  crawled  along  patiently,  waiting 
for  feeding  time  to  come,  catching  at  such 
bunches  of  dry  grass  as  came  within  their  reach, 
and  at  their  heels  rode  Harold  on  an  old  black 
mare,  his  clear  voice  urging  the  herd  forward. 
At  noon  and  again  at  night  Pratt  halted  the 
wagons  beside  the  road  and  while  the  women 
got  supper  or  dinner  Harold  helped  Pratt  take 
care  of  the  stock,  which  he  was  obliged  to  feed. 
"  I  started  a  little  airly,"  he  said  at  least  a  score 
of  times  in  the  first  week.  "  But  I  wanted  to 
get  a  good  start  agin  grass  come." 

Harold  was  naturally  handy  at  camping,  and 
his  ready  and  skillful  hands  became  very  valuable 
around  the  camp  fire.  He  was  quick  and  cheer 
ful,  and  apparently  tireless,  and  before  the  end 
of  the  week  Jennie  said: 

"  Say,  Mose,  you  can  ride  my  horse  if  you 
want  to." 

"  Much  obliged,  but  I  guess  I'll  hang  on  to 
the  black  mare." 

At  this  point  Dannie,  not  to  be  outdone, 
chirped  shrilly:  "  You  can  break -my  horse  if  you 
want  to." 

So  a  few  days  later  Harold,  with  intent  to 
check  the  girl  in  her  growing  friendliness,  as 
well  as  to  please  himself,  replied:  "  I  guess  1*11 
break  Dan's  colt." 

He  began  by  caressing  the  horse  at  every 

87 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

opportunity,  leaning  against  him,  or  putting  one 
arm  over  his  back,  to  let  him  feel  the  weight  of 
his  body.  At  last  he  leaped  softly  up  and  hung 
partly  over  his  back.  Naturally  the  colt  shied 
and  reared,  but  Harold  dropped  off  instantly 
and  renewed  his  petting  and  soothing.  It  was 
not  long  before  the  pony  allowed  him  to  mount, 
and  nothing  remained  but  to  teach  him  to  en 
dure  the  saddle  and  the  bridle.  This  was  done 
by  belting  him  and  checking  him  to  a  pad 
strapped  upon  his  back.  He  struggled  fiercely 
to  rid  himself  of  these  fetters.  He  leaped  in  the 
air,  fell,  rolled  over,  backing  and  wheeling 
around  and  around  till  Dan  grew  dizzy  watching 
him. 

A  bystander  once  said:  "Why  don't  you 
climb  onto  him  and  stay  with  him  till  he  gets 
sick  o'  pitchin';  that's  what  a  broncho  buster 
would  do." 

"  Because  I  don't  want  him  'busted';  I 
want  him  taught  that  I'm  his  friend,"  said 
Harold. 

In  the  end  "  Jack,"  as  Harold  called  the  roan, 
walked  up  to  his  master  and  rubbed  his  nose 
against  his  shoulder.  Harold  then  stripped 
away  the  bridle  and  pad  at  once,  and  when  he 
put  them  on  next  day  Jack  winced,  but  did  not 
plunge,  and  Harold  mounted  him.  A  day  or 
two  later  the  colt  worked  under  the  saddle  like 

88 


On  the  Wing 

an  old  horse.  Thereafter  it  was  a  matter  of 
making  him  a  horse  of  finished  education.  He 
was  taught  not  to  trot,  but  to  go  directly  from 
the  walk  to  the  "  lope."  He  acquired  a  swift 
walk  and  a  sort  of  running  trot — that  is,  he  trot 
ted  behind  and  rose  in  front  with  a  wolflike 
action  of  the  fore  feet.  He  was  guided  by  the 
touch  of  the  rein  on  the  neck  or  by  the  pressure 
of  his  rider's  knee  on  his  shoulder. 

He  was  taught  to  stand  without  hitching 
and  to  allow  his  rider  to  mount  on  either  side. 
This  was  a  trick  which  Harold  learned  of  a  man 
who  had  been  with  the  Indians.  "  You  see,"  he 
said,  "  an  Injun  can't  afford  to  have  a  horse  that 
will  only  let  him  climb  on  from  the  nigh  side,  he 
has  to  get  there  in  a  hurry  sometimes,  and  any 
side  at  all  will  do  him." 

It  was  well  that  Jack  was  trained  early,  for 
as  they  drew  out  on  the  open  prairie  and  the  feed 
became  better  the  horses  and  cattle  were  less 
easy  to  drive.  Each  day  the  interest  grew. 
The  land  became  wilder  and  the  sky  brighter. 
The  grass  came  on  swiftly,  and  crocuses  and 
dandelions  broke  from  the  sod  on  the  sunny 
side  of  smooth  hills.  The  cranes,  with  their 
splendid  challenging  cries,  swept  in  wide  circles 
through  the  sky.  Ducks  and  geese  moved  by 
in  myriads,  straight  on,  delaying  not.  Foxes 
barked  on  the  hills  at  sunset,  and  the  splendid 
89 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

chorus  of  the  prairie  chickens  thickened  day 
by  day. 

It  was  magnificent,  and  Harold  was  happy. 
True,  it  was  not  all  play.  There  were  muddy 
roads  to  plod  through  and  treacherous  sloughs 
to  cross.  There  were  nights  when  camp  had  to 
be  pitched  in  rain,  and  mornings  when  he  was 
obliged  to  rise  stiff  and  sore  to  find  the  cattle 
strayed  away  and  everything  wet  and  grimy. 
But  the  sunshine  soon  warmed  his  back  and 
dried  up  the  mud  under  his  feet.  Each  day  the 
way  grew  drier  and  the  flowers  more  abundant. 
Each  day  signs  of  the  wild  life  thickened.  An 
tlers  of  elk,  horns  of  the  buffalo,  crates  of  bones 
set  around  shallow  water  holes,  and  especially 
the  ever-thickening  game  trails  furrowing  the 
hills  filled  the  boy's  heart  with  delight.  This 
was  the  kind  of  life  he  wished  to  see.  They 
were  now  beyond  towns,  and  only  occasionally 
small  settlements  relieved  the  houseless  rolling 
plains.  Soon  the  Missouri,  that  storied  and 
muddy  old  stream,  would  offer  itself  to  view. 

"  Mose  "  was  now  indispensable  to  the  Pratt 
"  outfit."  He  built  fires,  shot  game,  herded  the 
cattle,  greased  the  wagons,  curried  horses,  and 
mended  harness.  He  never  complained  and 
never  grew  sullen.  Although  he  talked  but  lit 
tle,  the  family  were  fond  of  him,  but  considered 
him  a  "  singular  critter."  He  had  lost  his  pal- 

90 


On  the  Wing 

lor.  His  skin  was  a  clear  brown,  and  being 
dressed  in  rough  clothing,  wide  hat,  and  gaunt 
let  gloves,  he  made  a  bold  and  dashing  herder, 
showing  just  the  right  kind  of  wear  and  tear. 
Occasionally,  when  a  chance  to  earn  a  few  dol 
lars  offered,  Pratt  camped  and  took  a  job,  and 
Harold  shared  in  the  wages. 

He  spent  a  great  deal  of  his  pocket  money  in 
buying  cartridges  for  his  revolver.  He  shot  at 
everything  which  offered  a  taking  mark,  and  be 
came  so  expert  that  Dan  bowed  down  before 
him,  and  Mrs.  Pratt  considered  him  dangerous. 

"  It  ain't  natural  fer  to  be  so  durned  sure- 
pop  on  game,"  she  said  one  day.  "  Doggone  it, 
I'd  want  'o  miss  'em  once  in  a  while  just  fer  to 
be  aigged  on  fer  to  try  again.  First  you  know, 
you'll  be  obliged  fer  to  shoot  standin'  on  your 
haid  like  these  yere  champin'  shooters  that  go 
'round  the  kentry  givin'  shows,  you  shorely  will, 
Mose." 

Mose  only  laughed.  "  I  want  to  be  just  as 
good  a  shot  as  anybody,"  he  said,  turning  to 
Pratt. 

"  You'll  be  it  ef  you  don't  wear  out  your  gun 
a-doin'  of  it,"  replied  the  boss. 

These  were  splendid  days.     Each  sundown 

they  camped  nearer  to  the  land  of  the  buffalo, 

and  when  the  work  was  done  and  the  supper 

eaten,   Mose   took  his  pipe  and   his  gun  and 

7  91 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

walked  away  to  some  ridge,  there  to  sit  while 
the  yellow  light  faded  out  of  the  sky.  He  was 
as  happy  as  one  of  his  restless  nature  could  prop 
erly  hope  to  be,  but  sometimes  when  he  thought 
of  Mary  his  heart  ached  a  little;  he  forgot  her 
only  when  his  imagination  set  wing  into  the  sun 
set  sky. 

One  other  thing  troubled  him  a  little. 
Rude,  plain  Jennie  was  in  love  with  him.  Daily 
intercourse  with  a  youngster  half  as  attractive 
as  Mose  would  have  had  the  same  effect  upon 
her,  for  she  was  at  that  age  when  propinquity 
makes  sentiment  inevitable.  She  could  scarcely 
keep  her  eyes  from  him  during  hours  in  camp, 
and  on  the  drive  she  rode  with  him  four  times  as 
long  as  he  wished  for.  She  bothered  him,  and 
yet  she  was  so  good  and  generous  he  could  not 
rebuff  her;  he  could  only  endure. 

She  had  one  accomplishment:  she  could  ride 
like  a  Sioux,  either  astride  or  womanwise,  with 
a  saddle  or  without,  and  many  a  race  they  had 
as  the  roads  grew  firm  and  dry.  She  was 
scrawny  and  flat-chested,  but  agile  as  a  boy 
when  occasion  demanded.  She  was  fearless, 
too,  of  man  or  beast,  and  once  when  her  father 
became  crazy  with  liquor  (which  was  his  weak 
ness)  she  went  with  Mose  to  bring  him  from  a 
saloon,  where  he  stood  boasting  of  his  powers 
as  a  fighter  with  the  bowie  knife. 

92 


On  the  Wing 

As  they  entered  Jennie  walked  straight  up 
to  him:  "  Dad,  you  come  home.  Come  right 
out  o'  yere." 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  until  his  be 
numbed  brain  took  in  her  words  and  all  their 
meaning;  then  he  said:  "  All  right,  Jinnie,  just 
wait  a  second  till  I  have  another  horn  with  these 
yer  gents " 

"  Horn  nawthin,"  she  said  in  reply,  and 
seized  him  by  the  arm.  "  You  come  along." 

He  submitted  without  a  struggle,  and  on  the 
way  out  grew  plaintive.  "  Jinnie,  gal,"  he  kept 
saying,  "  I'm  liable  to  get  dry  before  mornin', 
I  shore  am;  ef  you'd  only  jest  let  me  had  one 
more  gill " 

"Oh,  shet  up,  Dad.  Ef  you  git  dry  I'll 
bring  the  hull  crick  in  fer  ye  to  drink,"  was  her 
scornful  reply. 

After  he  was  safe  in  bed  Jennie  came  over  to 
the  wagon  where  Mose  was  smoking. 

"  Men  are  the  blamedest  fools,"  she  began 
abruptly;  "  'pears  like  they  ain't  got  the  sense 
of  a  grayback  louse,  leastways  some  of  'em. 
Now,  there's  dad,  filled  up  on  stuff  they  call 
whisky  out  yer,  and  consequence  is  he  can't  eat 
any  grub  for  two  days  or  more.  Doggone  it,  it 
makes  me  huffy,  it  plum  does.  Mam  has  put  up 
with  it  fer  twenty  years,  which  is  just  twenty 
more  than  I'd  stand  it,  and  don't  you  forget  it. 
93 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

When  I  marry  a  man  it  will  be  a  man  with  sense 
'nough  not  to  pizen  hisself  on  rot-gut  whisky." 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply  she  turned  away 
and  went  to  bed  in  the  bottom  of  the  hinder 
wagon.  Mose  smoked  his  pipe  out  and  rolled 
himself  in  his  blanket  near  the  smoldering 
camp  fire. 

Pratt  was  feeble  and  very  long  faced  and  re 
pentant  at  breakfast.  His  appetite  was  gone. 
Mrs.  Pratt  said  nothing,  but  pressed  him  to  eat. 
"  Come,  Paw,  a  gill  or  two  o'  cawfee  will  do  ye 
good,"  she  said.  "  Cawfee  is  a  great  heatoner," 
she  said  to  Mose.  "  When  I'm  so  misorified  of 
a  moarnin'  I  can't  eat  a  mossel  o'  bacon  or  pork, 
I  kin  take  a  gill  o'  cawfee  an'  it  shore  helps  me 
much." 

Pratt  looked  around  sheepishly.  "  I  do 
reckon  I  made  a  plum  ejot  of  myself  last  night." 

"  As  ush'll,"  snapped  Jennie.  '  You  wanted 
to  go  slicin'  every  man  in  sight  up,  just  fer  to 
show  you  could  swing  a  bowie  knife  when  you 
was  on  airth  the  first  time." 

"  Now  that's  the  quare  thing,  Mose;  a 
peacebbler  man  than  me  don't  live;  Jinnie  says 
I  couldn't  lick  a  hearty  bedbug,  but  when  I  git 
red  liquor  into  my  insides  I'm  a  terror  to  near 
neighbours,  so  they  say.  I  can't  well  remem 
ber  just  what  do  take  place  'long  towards  the 
fo'th  drink." 

94 


On  the  Wing 

"  Durn  lucky  you  can't.  You'd  never  hole 
up  your  head  again.  A  plummer  fool  you  never 
see,"  said  Jennie,  determined  to  drive  his  shame 
home  to  him. 

Pratt  sighed,  understood  perfectly  the  mean 
ing  of  all  this  vituperation.  "  Well,  Mam,  we'll 
try  again.  I  think  I'm  doin'  pretty  good  when 
I  go  two  munce,  don't  you?  " 

"It's  more'n  that,  Paw,"  said  Mrs.  Pratt, 
eager  to  encourage  him  at  the  right  moment. 
"  It's  sixty-four  days.  You  gained  four  days  on 
it  this  time." 

Pratt  straightened  up  and  smiled.  "  That 
so,  Mam?  Wai,  that  shorely  is  a  big  gain." 

He  took  Mose  aside  after  breakfast  and  sol 
emnly  said: 

"  Wimern-folk  is  a  heap  better'n  men-folks. 
Now,  me  or  you  couldn't  stand  in  wimern-folks 
what  they  put  up  with  in  men-folks.  Tears  like 
they  air  finer  built,  someway."  After  a  pause 
he  said  with  great  earnestness:  "  Don't  you 
drink  red  liquor,  Mose;  it  shore  makes  a  man  no 
account." 

"  Don't  you  worry,  Cap.  I'm  not  drinkin' 
liquor  of  any  color." 


95 


CHAPTER    VIII 

THE    UPWARD    TRAIL 

ONCE  across  the  Missouri  the  trail  began  to 
mount.  "  Here  is  the  true  buffalo  country/' 
thought  Mose,  as  they  came  to  the  treeless  hills 
of  the  Great  Muddy  Water.  On  these  smooth 
buttes  Indian  sentinels  had  stood,  morning  and 
evening,  through  a  thousand  years,  to  signal  the 
movement  of  the  wild  herds,  and  from  other  dis 
tant  hills  columns  of  smoke  by  day,  or  the  flare 
of  signal  fires  at  night,  had  warned  the  chieftains 
of  the  approach  of  enemies.  Down  these  grassy 
gulches,  around  these  sugar-loaf  mesas,  the  giant 
brown  cattle  of  the  plains  had  crawled  in  long, 
dark,  knobby  lines.  On  the  green  bottoms  they 
had  mated  and  fed  and  fought  in  thousands, 
roaring  like  lions,  their  huge  hoofs  flinging  the 
alkaline  earth  in  showers  above  their  heads,  their 
tongues  curling,  their  tails  waving  like  banners. 

Mose  was  already  deeply  learned  in  all  these 
dramas.  All  that  he  had  ever  heard  or  read  of 
the  wild  country  remained  in  his  mind.  He 
cared  nothing  about  the  towns  or  the  fame  of 

96 


The  Upward  Trail 

cities,  but  these  deep-worn  trails  of  shaggy 
beasts  filled  him  with  joy.  Their  histories  were 
more  to  him  than  were  the  wars  of  Cyrus  and 
Hannibal.  He  questioned  all  the  men  he  met, 
and  their  wisdom  became  his. 

Slowly  the  movers  wound  their  way  up  the 
broad,  sandy  river  which  came  from  the  wilder 
spaces  of  the  West.  The  prairie  was  gone. 
The  tiger  lily,  the  sweet  Williams,  the  pinks,  to 
gether  with  the  luxuriant  meadows  and  the 
bobolinks,  were  left  behind.  In  their  stead,  a 
limitless,  upward  shelving  plain  outspread,  cov 
ered  with  a  short,  surly,  hairlike  grass  and  cer 
tain  sturdy,  resinous  plants  supporting  flowers 
of  an  unpleasant  odor,  sticky  and  weedy.  Bris 
tling  cacti  bulged  from  the  sod;  small  Quaker- 
gray  sparrows  and  larks  were  the  only  birds.  In 
the  swales  blue  joint  grew  rank.  The  only  trees 
were  cottonwoods  and  cutleaf  willow,  scattered 
scantily  along  the  elbows  in  the  river. 

At  last  they  came  to  the  home  of  the  prairie 
dog  and  the  antelope — the  buffalo  could  not  be 
far  away!  So  wide  was  the  earth,  so  all-embrac 
ing  the  sky,  they  seemed  to  blend  at  the  horizon 
line,  and  lakes  of  water  sprang  into  view,  filling 
a  swale  in  the  sod — mystic  and  beautiful,  only 
to  vanish  like  cloud  shadows. 

The  cattle  country  was  soon  at  hand.  Cow 
boys  in  sombreros  and  long-heeled  boots,  with 
97 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

kerchiefs  knotted  about  their  necks,  careered  on 
swift  ponies  in  and  out  of  the  little  towns  or  met 
the  newcomers  on  the  river  road.  They  rode 
in  a  fashion  new  to  Mose,  with  toes  pointed 
straight  down,  the  weight  of  their  bodies  a 
little  on  one  side.  They  skimmed  the  ground 
like  swallows,  forcing  their  ponies  mercilessly. 
Their  saddles  were  very  heavy,  with  high  pom 
mels  and  leather-covered  stirrups,  and  Mose 
determined  to  have  one  at  once.  Some  of 
them  carried  rifles  under  their  legs  in  a  long 
holster. 

Realizing  that  those  were  the  real  "  cow- 
punchers,"  the  youth  studied  their  outfits  as 
keenly  as  a  country  girl  scrutinizes  the  new 
gown  of  a  visiting  city  cousin.  He  changed 
his  manner  of  riding  (which  was  more  nearly 
that  of  the  cavalry)  to  theirs.  He  slung  a  red 
kerchief  around  his  neck,  and  bought  a  pair  of 
"  chaps,"  a  sort  of  fringed  leather  leggings.  He 
had  been  wearing  his  pistol  at  his  side,  he  now 
slewed  it  around  to  his  hip.  He  purchased  also 
a  pair  of  high-heeled  boots  and  a  "  rope  "  (no 
one  called  it  a  "  lariat  "),  and  began  to  acquire 
the  technicalities  of  the  range.  A  horse  that 
reared  and  leaped  to  fling  its  rider  was  said  to 
"  pitch."  Any  firearm  was  a  "  gun,"  and  any 
bull,  steer,  or  heifer,  a  "  cow."  In  a  few  days  all 
these  distinctions  had  been  mastered,  and  only 
98 


The  Upward  Trail 

the  closest  observer  was  able  to  "  cut  out  "  Mose 
as  a  "  tenderfoot." 

Pratt  was  bound  for  his  brother's  ranch  on 
the  Big  Sandy  River,  and  so  pushed  on  steadily, 
although  it  was  evident  that  he  was  not  looked 
upon  with  favor.  He  had  reached  a  section  of 
country  where  the  cattlemen  eyed  his  small 
outfit  with  contempt  and  suspicion.  He  came 
under  the  head  of  a  "  nester,"  or  "  truck  farmer," 
who  was  likely  to  fence  in  the  river  somewhere 
and  homestead  some  land.  He  was  another 
menace  to  the  range,  and  was  to  be  discouraged. 
The  mutter  of  war  was  soon  heard. 

One  day  a  couple  of  whisky-heated  cow 
boys  rode  furiously  up  behind  Mose  and  called 
out: 

"  Where  in  h — 1  ye  think  ye're  goin',  you 
dam  cow  milker?  " 

Mose  was  angry  on  the  instant  and  sullenly 
said:  "  None  of  your  business." 

After  threatening  to  blow  his  liver  into  bits 
they  rode  on  and  repeated  their  question  to 
Pratt,  who  significantly  replied:  "  I'm  a-goin' 
to  the  mouth  o'  the  Cannon  Ball  ef  I  don't  miss 
it.  Any  objection?  " 

'  You  bet  we  have,  you  rowdy  baggage 
puller.  You  better  keep  out  o'  here;  the  cli 
mate's  purty  severe." 

Pratt  smiled  grimly.     "  I'm  usen  to  that, 
99 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

boys,"  he  replied,  and  the  cowboys  rode  on,  curs 
ing  him  for  a  fool. 

At  last,  late  in  July,  the  mouth  of  the  Can 
non  Ball  was  reached.  One  afternoon  they  cut 
across  a  peninsular  body  of  high  land  and  came 
in  sight  of  a  wide  green  flat  (between  two  slug 
gish,  percolating  streams)  whereon  a  cluster  of 
gray  log  buildings  stood. 

"  I  reckon  that's  Jake's,"  said  Pratt  as  they 
halted  to  let  the  horses  breathe.  A  minute,  zig 
zag  line  of  deep  green  disclosed  the  course  of  the 
Cannon  Ball,  deep  sunk  in  the  gravelly  soil  as  it 
came  down  to  join  the  Big  Sandy.  All  about 
stood  domed  and  pyramidal  and  hawk-headed 
buttes.  On  the  river  bank  huge  old  cotton- 
woods,  worn  and  leaning,  offered  the  only  shad 
ow  in  a  land  flooded  with  vehement,  devouring 
light.  The  long  journey  was  at  an  end. 

Daniel  raised  a  peculiar  halloo,  which 
brought  a  horseman  hurrying  out  to  meet  him. 
The  brother  had  not  forgotten  their  boyish  sig 
nal.  He  rode  up  swiftly  and  slid  from  his  horse 
without  speaking. 

Jake  resembled  his  brother  in  appearance, 
but  his  face  was  sterner  and  his  eyes  keener.  He 
had  been  made  a  bold,  determined  man  by  the 
pressure  of  harsher  circumstances.  He  shook 
his  brother  by  the  hand  in  self-contained  fashion. 

"  Wai,  Dan'l,  I'm  right  glad  you  got  h'yer 

100 


The  Upward  Trail 

safe.  I  reckon  this  is  Miss  Jinnie — she's  a 
right  hearty  girl,  ain't  she?  Mrs.  Pratt,  I'm 
heartily  glad  to  see  ye.  This  yer  little  man 
must  be  the  tit-man.  What's  your  name, 
sonny?  " 

"  Dan.  H.  Pratt,"  piped  the  boy. 

"Ah — hah!  Wai,  sir,  I  reckon  you'll  make 
a  right  smart  of  a  cowboy  yet.  What's  this?  " 
he  said,  turning  to  Mose.  "  This  ain't  no  son- 
in-law,  I  reckon !  " 

At  this  question  all  laughed,  Jennie  most  im 
moderately  of  all. 

"  Not  yit,  Uncle  Jake." 

Mose  turned  red,  being  much  more  embar 
rassed  than  Jennie.  He  was  indeed  enraged,  for 
it  hurt  his  pride  to  be  counted  a  suitor  of  this 
ungainly  and  ignorant  girl.  Right  there  he  re 
solved  to  flee  at  the  first  opportunity.  Distress 
ful  days  were  at  hand. 

"  You've  been  a  long  time  gettin'  here, 
Dan." 

"  Wai,  we've  had  some  bad  luck.  Mam  was 
sick  for  a  spell,  and  then  we  had  to  lay  by  an* 
aim  a  little  money  once  in  a  while.  I'm  glad 
I'm  here — 'peared  like  we'd  wear  the  hoofs  off'n 
our  stawk  purty  soon."  Jake  sobered  down 
first.  "  Wai,  now  I  reckon  you  best  unhook 
right  h'yer  for  a  day  or  two  till  we  get  a  min 
ute  to  look  around  and  see  where  we're  at."  So, 
101 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

clucking  to  the  tired  horses  the  train  entered 
upon  its  last  half  mile  of  a  long  journey. 

Jake's  wife,  a  somber  and  very  reticent 
woman,  with  a  slender  figure  and  a  girlish  head, 
met  them  at  the  door  of  the  cabin.  Her  fea 
tures  were  unusually  small  for  a  woman  of  her 
height,  and,  as  she  shook  hands  silently,  Mose 
looked  into  her  sad  dark  eyes  and  liked  her  very 
much.  She  had  no  children;  the  two  in  which 
she  had  once  taken  a  mother's  joy  slept  in  two 
little  mounds  on  the  hill  just  above  the  house. 
She  seemed  glad  of  the  coming  of  her  sister-in- 
law,  though  she  did  not  stop  to  say  so,  but  re 
turned  to  the  house  to  hurry  supper  forward. 

After  the  meal  was  eaten  the  brothers  lit 
their  pipes  and  sauntered  out  to  the  stables, 
where  they  sat  down  for  a  long  talk.  Mose  fol 
lowed  them  silently  and  sat  near  to  listen. 

"  Now,  Dan'l,"  Jake  began,  "  I'm  mighty 
glad  you've  come  and  brought  this  yer  young 
feller.  We  need  ye  both  bad!  It's  like  this  "— 
he  paused  and  looked  around;  "  I  don't  want 
the  wimern  folks  to  hear,"  he  explained. 
"  Times  is  goin'  to  be  lively  here,  shore.  They's 
a  big  fight  on  'twixt  us  truck  farmers  and  the 
cattle  ranchers.  You  see,  the  cattlemen  has  had 
the  free  range  so  long  they  naturally  'low  they 
own  it,  and  they  have  the  nerve  to  tell  us  fellers 
to  keep  off.  They  explain  smooth  enough  that 
102 


The  Upward  Trail 

they  ain't  got  nawthin'  agin  me  pussonally — you 
understand — only  they  'low  me  settlin'  h'yer  will 
bring  others,  which  is  shore  about  right,  fer 
h'yer  you  be,  kit  an'  caboodle.  Now  you  com- 
in'  in  will  set  things  a-whoopin',  an'  it  ain't  no 
Sunday-school  picnic  we're  a-facin'.  We're  go- 
in'  to  plant  some  o'  these  men  before  this  is  set 
tled.  The  hull  cattle  business  is  built  up  on  rob 
bing  the  Government.  I've  said  so,  an'  they're 
down  on  me  already." 

As  Jake  talked  the  night  fell,  and  the  boy's 
hair  began  to  stir.  A  wolf  was  "  yapping  "  on  a 
swell,  and  a  far-off  heron  was  uttering  his  boom 
ing  cry.  Over  the  ridges,  which  cut  sharply 
into  the  fleckless  dull-yellow  sky,  lay  unknown 
lands  out  of  which  almost  any  variety  of  fierce 
marauder  might  ride.  Surely  this  was  the  wild 
country  of  which  he  had  read,  where  men  could 
talk  so  glibly  of  murder  and  violent  death. 

"  When  I  moved  in  here  three  years  ago," 
continued  Jake,  "  they  met  me  and  told  me  to 
get  out.  I  told  'em  I  weren't  takin'  a  back 
track  that  year.  One  night  they  rode  down 
a-whoopin'  and  a-shoutin',  and  I  natcherly 
poked  my  gun  out'n  the  winder  and  handed  out 
a  few  to  'em — an'  they  rode  off.  Next  year 
quite  a  little  squad  o'  truck  farmers  moved  into 
the  bend  just  below,  an'  we  got  together  and 
talked  it  over  and  agreed  to  stand  by.  We 
103 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

planted  two  more  o'  them,  and  they  got  one  on 
us.  They  control  the  courts,  and  so  we  have 
got  to  fight.  They've  got  a  judge  that  suits 
'em  now,  and  this  year  will  be  hot — it  will, 
sure." 

Dan'l  Pratt  smoked  for  a  full  minute  before 
he  said:  "  You  didn't  write  nothin'  of  this, 
Jake." 

Jake  grinned.  "  I  didn't  want  to  disappoint 
you,  Dan.  I  knew  your  heart  was  set  on 
comin'." 

"  Wai,  I  didn't  'low  fer  to  hunt  up  no  furss," 
Dan  slowly  said;  "  but  the  feller  that  tramps  on 
me  is  liable  to  sickness." 

Jake  chuckled.  "  I  know  that,  Dan;  but 
how  about  this  young  feller?  " 

"  He's  all  right.  He  kin  shoot  like  a  circus 
feller,  and  I  reckon  he'll  stay  right  by." 

Mose,  with  big  heart,  said,  "  You  bet  I  will." 

"That's  the  talk.  Well,  now,  let's  go  to 
bed.  I've  sent  word  to  Jennison — he's  our  cap 
tain — and  to-morrow  we'll  settle  you  on  the 
mouth  o'  the  creek,  just  above  here.  It's  a  mon 
strous  fine  piece  o'  ground;  I  know  you'll 
like  it." 

Mose  slept  very  little  that  night.     He  found 

himself  holding  his  breath  in  order  to  be  sure 

that  the  clamor  of  a  coyote  was  not  a  cowboy 

signal  of  attack.     There  was  something  vastly 

104 


The  Upward  Trail 

convincing  in  Jake  Pratt's  quiet  drawl  as  he  set 
forth  the  cause  for  war. 

Early  the  next  morning,  Jennison,  the  leader 
of  the  settlers,  came  riding  into  the  yard.  He 
was  tall,  grim  lipped  and  curt  spoken.  He 
had  been  a  captain  in  the  Union  Army  of  Volun 
teers,  and  was  plainly  a  man  of  inflexible  pur 
pose  and  resolution. 

"  How  d'e  do,  gentlemen?"  he  called  pleas 
antly,  as  he  reined  in  his  foaming  broncho. 
"  Nice  day." 

"  Mighty  purty.  Light  off,  cap'n,  an'  shake 
hands  with  my  brother  Dan'l." 

Jennison  dismounted  calmly  and  easily,  drop 
ping  the  rein  over  the  head  of  his  wild  broncho, 
and  after  shaking  hands  all  around,  said: 

"  Well,  neighbor,  I'm  right  glad  to  see  ye. 
Jake,  your  brother,  has  been  savin'  up  a  home 
stead  for  ye — and  I  reckon  he's  told  you  that  a 
mighty  purty  fight  goes  with  it.  You  see  it's 
this  way:  The  man  that  has  the  water  has  the 
grass  and  the  circle,  for  by  fencing  in  the  river 
here  controls  the  grass  for  twenty  miles.  They 
can  range  the  whole  country;  nobody  else  can 
touch  'em.  Williams,  of  the  Circle  Bar,  controls 
the  river  for  twenty  miles  here,  and  has  fenced  it 
in.  Of  course  he  has  no  legal  right  to  more 
than  a  section  or  two  of  it — all  the  rest  is  a  steal 
— the  V.  T.  outfit  joins  him  on  the  West,  and  so 
105 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

on.  They  all  stand  to  keep  out  settlement — any 
kind — and  they'll  make  a  fight  on  you — the 
thing  for  you  to  do  is  move  right  in  on  the  flat 
Jake  has  picked  out  for  you,  and  meet  all 
comers." 

To  this  Pratt  said:  "  Tears  to  me,  captain, 
that  I'd  better  see  if  I  can't  make  some  peace- 
abler  arrangement." 

"  We've  tried  all  peaceable  means,"  replied 
Jennison  impatiently.  "  The  fact  is,  the  whole 
cattle  business  as  now  constituted  is  a  steal.  It 
rests  on  a  monopoly  of  Government  land.  It's 
got  to  go.  Settlement  is  creeping  in  and  these 
big  ranges  which  these  '  cattle  kings  '  have  held, 
must  be  free.  There  is  a  war  due  between  the 
sheepmen  and  the  cattlemen,  too,  and  our  lay  is 
to  side  in  with  the  sheepmen.  They  are  mainly 
Mexicans,  but  their  fight  is  our  feast." 

As  day  advanced  men  came  riding  in  from 
the  Cannon  Ball  and  from  far  below  on  the  Big 
Sandy,  and  under  Jennison's  leadership  the  wires 
of  the  Williams  fence  were  cut  and  Daniel  Pratt 
moved  to  the  creek  flat  just  above  his  brother's 
ranch.  Axes  rang  in  the  cottonwoods,  and 
when  darkness  came,  the  building  of  a  rude, 
farmlike  cabin  went  on  by  the  light  of  big  fires. 
Mose,  in  the  thick  of  it,  was  a-quiver  with  ex 
citement.  The  secrecy,  the  haste,  the  glory  of 
flaring  fires,  the  almost  silent  swarming  of  black 
106 


The  Upward  Trail 

figures  filled  his  heart  to  the  brim  with  exulta 
tion.  He  was  satisfied,  rapt  with  it  as  one  in 
the  presence  of  heroic  music. 

But  the  stars  paled  before  the  dawn.  The 
coyotes  changed  their  barking  to  a  solemn  wail 
as  though  day  came  to  rob  them  of  some  irre 
deemable  joy.  A  belated  prairie  cock  began  to 
boom,  and  then  tired,  sleepy,  and  grimy,  the  men 
sat  down  to  breakfast  at  Jacob  Pratt's  house. 
The  deed  had  been  done.  Daniel  had  entered 
the  lion's  den. 

"  Now,"  said  Jennison  grimly,  "  we'll  just 
camp  down  here  in  Jake's  barn  to  sleep,  and  if 
you  need  any  help,  let  us  know." 

The  Pratts  continued  their  work,  and  by 
noon  a  habitable  shack  was  ready  for  Mrs.  Pratt 
and  the  children.  In  the  afternoon  Mose  and 
Daniel  slept  for  a  few  hours  while  Jake  kept 
watch.  The  day  ended  peacefully,  but  Jennison 
and  one  or  two  others  remained  to  see  the  new 
comer  through  a  second  night. 

They  sat  around  a  fire  not  far  from  the  cabin 
and  talked  quietly  of  the  most  exciting  things. 
The  question  of  Indian  outbreaks  came  up  and 
Jennison  said:  "We  won't  have  any  more 
trouble  with  the  Indians.  The  Regulars  has 
broken  their  backs.  They  can't  do  anything 
now  but  die." 

"  They  hated  to  give  up  this  land  here,"  said 
8  107 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

a  small,  dark  man.  "  I  used  to  hear  'em  talk 
it  a  whole  lot.  They  made  out  a  case." 

"  Hank  lived  with  'em  four  years,"  Jennison 
explained  to  Daniel  Pratt. 

"  The  Indians  are  a  good  deal  better  than 
we  give  'em  credit  for  bein',"  said  another  man. 
"  I  lived  next  'em  in  Minnesota  and  I  never  had 
no  trouble." 

Jennison  said  decisively:  "  Oh,  I  guess  if  you 
treat  'em  right  they  treat  you  right.  Ain't  that 
their  way,  Hank?  " 

"  Well,  you  see  it's  like  this,"  said  the  hairy 
little  man;  "  they're  kind  o'  suspicious  nacherly 
of  the  white  man — they  can't  understand  what 
he  says,  and  they  don't  get  his  drift  always. 
They  make  mistakes  that  way,  but  they  mean 
all  right.  Of  course  they  have  young  plug- 
uglies  amongst  'em  jest  the  same  as  'mongst  any 
other  c'munity,  but  the  majority  of  'em  druther 
be  peaceful  with  their  neighbors.  What  makes 
'em  wildest  is  seein'  the  buffalo  killed  off.  It's 
like  you  havin'  your  water  right  cut  off." 

As  the  talk  went  on,  Mose  squatted  there 
silently  receiving  instruction.  His  eyes  burned 
through  the  dusk  as  he  listened  to  the  dark  little 
man  who  spoke  with  a  note  of  authority  and  de 
cision  in  his  voice.  His  words  conveyed  to 
Mose  a  conception  of  the  Indian  new  to  him. 
These  "  red  devils  "  were  people.  In  this  man's 
108 


The  Upward  Trail 

talk  they  were  husbands  and  fathers,  and  sons, 
and  brothers.  They  loved  these  lands  for  which 
the  cattlemen  and  sheepmen  were  now  about 
to  battle,  and  they  had  been  dispossessed  by 
the  power  of  the  United  States  Army,  not  by 
law  and  justice.  A  desire  to  know  more  of 
them,  to  see  them  in  their  homes,  to  understand 
their  way  of  thinking,  sprang  up  in  the  boy's 
brain. 

He  edged  over  close  to  the  plainsman  and, 
in  a  pause  in  the  talk,  whispered  to  him:  "  I 
want  you  to  tell  me  more  about  the  Indians." 

The  other  man  turned  quickly  and  said: 
"  Boy,  they're  my  friends.  In  a  show-down  I'm 
on  their  side;  my  father  was  a  half-breed." 

The  night  passed  quietly  and  nearly  all  the 
men  went  home,  leaving  the  Pratts  to  meet  the 
storm  alone,  but  Jennison  had  a  final  word. 
"  You  send  your  boy  to  yon  butte,  and  wave  a 
hat  any  time  during  the  day  and  we'll  come, 
side  arms  ready.  I'll  keep  an  eye  on  the  butte 
all  day  and  come  up  and  see  you  to-night. 
Don't  let  'em  get  the  drop  on  ye." 

It  was  not  until  the  third  day  that  Williams, 
riding  the  line  in  person,  came  upon  the  new 
settler.  He  sat  upon  his  horse  and  swore.  His 
face  was  dark  with  passion,  but  after  a  few  min 
utes'  pause  he  drew  rein  and  rode  away. 

"  Another  butter  maker,"  he  said  to  his  men 
109 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

as  he  slipped  from  the  saddle  at  his  own  door, 
"  some  ten  miles  up  the  river." 

"  Where?  " 

"  Next  to  Pratt's.  I  reckon  it's  that  brother 
o'  his  he's  been  talking  about.  They  cut  my 
wires  and  squatted  on  the  Rosebud  flat." 

"  Give  the  word  and  we'll  run  'em  out,"  said 
one  of  his  men.  "  Every  son-of-a-gun  of  'em." 

Williams  shook  his  head.  "  No,  that  won't 
do.  W've  got  to  go  slow  in  rippin'  these  squat 
ters  out  o'  their  holes.  They  anchor  right  down 
to  the  roots  of  the  tree  of  life.  I  reckon  we've 
got  to  let  'em  creep  in;  we'll  scare  'em  all  we 
can  before  they  settle,  but  when  they  settle  we've 
got  to  go  around  'em.  If  the  man  was  a 
stranger  we  might  do  something,  but  Jake  Pratt 
don't  bluff — besides,  boys,  I've  got  worse  news 
for  you." 

"What's  that?" 

"  A  couple  of  Mexicans  with  five  thousand 
sheep  crossed  Lizard  Creek  yesterday." 

The  boys  leaped  to  their  feet,  variously  cry 
ing  out:  "  Oh,  come  off!  It  can't  be  true." 

"  It  is  true — I  saw  'em  myself,"  insisted 
Williams. 

"Well,  that  means  war.  Does  the  V.  T. 
outfit  know  it?  " 

"  I  don't  think  so.  We've  got  to  stand  to 
gether  now,  or  we'll  be  overrun  with  sheep.  The 
no 


The  Upward  Trail 

truck  farmers  are  a  small  matter  compared  to 
these  cursed  greasers." 

"  I  guess  we'd  better  send  word  up  the  river, 
hadn't  we?  "  asked  his  partner. 

"  Yes,  we  want  to  let  the  whole  county 
know  it." 

Cheyenne  County  was  an  enormous  expanse 
of  hilly  plain,  if  the  two  words  may  be  used  to 
gether.  Low  heights  of  sharp  ascent,  pyramid- 
shaped  buttes,  and  wide  benches  (cut  here  and 
there  by  small  creek  valleys)  made  up  its  surface, 
which,  broadly  considered,  was  only  the  vast, 
treeless,  slowly-rising  eastern  slope  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  At  long  distances,  on  the  flat, 
sandy  river,  groups  of  squat  and  squalid  ranch 
buildings  huddled  as  if  to  escape  the  wind.  For 
years  it  has  been  a  superb  range  for  cattle,  and 
up  till  the  coming  of  the  first  settlements  on  the 
Cannon  Ball,  it  had  been  parceled  out  among  a 
few  big  firms,  who  cut  Government  timber,  dug 
Government  stone,  and  pastured  on  Govern 
ment  grass.  When  the  wolves  took  a  few 
ponies,  the  ranchers  seized  the  opportunity  to 
make  furious  outcry  and  bring  in  the  Govern 
ment  troops  to  keep  the  Indians  in  awe,  and  so 
possessed  the  land  in  serenity.  Nothing  could 
be  more  perfect,  more  commodious. 

But  for  several  years  before  the  coming  of 
the  Pratts  certain  other  ominous  events  were 
in 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

taking  place.  Over  the  mountains  from  the 
West,  or  up  the  slope  from  New  Mexico,  enor 
mous  herds  of  small,  greasy  sheep  began  to  ap 
pear.  They  were  "  walking  "  for  better  pasture, 
and  where  they  went  they  destroyed  the  grasses 
and  poisoned  the  ground  with  foul  odors.  Cat 
tle  and  horses  would  not  touch  any  grass  which 
had  been  even  touched  by  these  ill-smelling 
woolly  creatures.  There  had  been  ill-feeling  be 
tween  sheepmen  and  cattlemen  from  the  first, 
but  as  water  became  scarcer  and  the  range  more 
fully  stocked,  bitterness  developed  into  hatred 
and  warfare.  Sheep  herders  were  considered 
outcasts,  and  of  no  social  account.  To  kill  one 
was  by  some  considered  a  kindness,  for  it  ended 
the  misery  of  a  man  who  would  go  crazy  watch 
ing  the  shifting,  crawling  maggots  anyway.  It 
was  bad  enough  to  be  a  cow  milker,  but  to  be 
a  sheep  herder  was  living  death. 

These  herds  thickened  from  year  to  year. 
They  followed  the  feed,  were  clipped  once,  some 
times  twice,  and  then  were  headed  back  to  win 
ter  in  the  south,  dying  in  myriads  on  the  way — 
only  to  reappear  augmented  in  numbers  the  suc 
ceeding  year.  They  were  worthless  as  mutton, 
and  at  first  were  never  shipped,  but  as  the  flocks 
were  graded  up,  the  best  were  culled  and  sent  to 
Eastern  markets.  They  menaced  the  cattlemen 
in  the  West  and  South,  while  the  rancher  made 

112 


The  Upward  Trail 

slow  but  inexorable  advance  on  the  East.  As 
the  cattleman  came  to  understand  this  his  face 
grew  dark  and  sullen,  but  thus  far  no  herd  had 
entered  the  Big  Sandy  Range,  though  Williams 
feared  their  coming  and  was  ready  to  do  battle. 

At  the  precise  time  that  Daniel  Pratt  was 
entering  Cheyenne  County  from  the  East,  a 
Mexican  sheepman  was  moving  toward  the  Can 
non  Ball  from  the  Southwest,  walking  behind 
ten  thousand  sheep,  leaving  a  dusty,  bare  and 
stinking  trail  behind  him.  Williams'  report 
drew  the  attention  of  the  cattlemen,  and  the 
Pratts  were  for  the  time  forgotten. 

A  few  days  after  Daniel's  assault  on  the 
fences  of  the  big  ranch,  a  conference  of  cattle 
men  met  and  appointed  a  committee  to  wait 
upon  the  owner  of  the  approaching  flock  of 
sheep.  The  Pratts  heard  of  this,  and,  for  rea 
sons  of  their  own,  determined  to  be  present. 
Mose,  eager  to  see  the  outcome  of  these  excit 
ing  movements,  accompanied  the  Pratts  on  their 
ride  over  the  hills. 

They  found  the  man  and  his  herders  en 
camped  on  the  bank  of  a  little  stream  in  a 
smooth  and  beautiful  valley.  He  had  a  covered 
wagon  and  a  small  tent,  and  a  team  of  hobbled 
horses  was  feeding  near.  Before  the  farmers 
had  time  to  cross  the  stream  the  cattlemen  came 
in  sight,  riding  rapidly,  and  the  Pratts  waited 


The  Eagles  Heart 

for  them  to  come  up.  As  they  halted  on  the 
opposite  bank  of  the  stream  the  sheep  owner 
came  out  of  his  tent  with  a  rifle  in  his  arm  and 
advanced  calmly  to  meet  them. 

"  Good  evening,  gentlemen,"  he  called  pleas 
antly,  but  the  slant  of  his  chin  was  significant. 
He  was  a  tall,  thin  man  with  a  long  beard.  He 
wore  an  ordinary  sombrero,  with  wide,  stiff  brim, 
a  gray  shirt,  and  loose,  gray  trousers.  At  his 
belt,  and  significantly  in  front  and  buttoned 
down,  hung  two  splendid  revolvers.  Aside  from 
these  weapons,  he  looked  like  a  clergyman  camp 
ing  for  the  summer. 

Hitching  their  horses  to  the  stunted  willow 
and  cottonwood  trees,  the  committee  ap 
proached  the  tent,  and  Williams,  of  Circle  Bar, 
became  spokesman:  "We  have  come,"  he  said, 
"  to  make  a  statement.  We  are  peaceably  dis 
posed,  but  would  like  to  state  our  side  of  the 
case.  The  range  into  which  you  are  walking 
your  sheep  is  already  overstocked  with  cattle 
and  horses,  and  we  are  going  to  suffer,  for  you 
know  very  well  cattle  will  not  follow  sheep. 
The  coming  of  your  flock  is  likely  to  bring 
others,  and  we  can't  stand  it.  We  have  come 
to  ask  you  to  keep  off  our  range.  We  have 
been  to  big  expense  to  build  sheds  and  fences, 
and  we  can't  afford  to  have  sheep  thrown  in 
on  us." 

114 


The  Upward  Trail 

To  this  the  sheepman  made  calm  reply.  He 
said:  "  Gentlemen,  all  that  you  have  said  is  true, 
but  it  does  not  interest  me.  This  land  belongs 
as  much  to  me  as  to  you.  By  law  you  can  hold 
only  one  quarter  section  each  by  squatters'  right. 
That  right  I  shall  respect,  but  no  more.  I  shall 
drive  my  sheep  anywhere  on  grounds  not  actu 
ally  occupied  by  your  feeding  cattle.  Neither 
you  nor  I  have  much  more  time  to  do  this  kind 
of  thing.  The  small  settler  is  coming  westward. 
Until  he  comes  I  propose  to  have  my  share  of 
Government  grass." 

The  meeting  grew  stormy.  Williams,  of 
Circle  Bar,  counselled  moderation.  Others 
were  for  beginning  war  at  once.  "  If  this  man 
is  looking  for  trouble  he  can  easily  find  it,"  one 
of  them  said. 

The  sheepman  grimly  replied:  "  I  have  the 
reputation  in  my  country  of  taking  care  of  my 
self."  He  drew  a  revolver  and  laid  it  affection 
ately  in  the  hollow  of  his  folded  left  arm.  "  I 
have  two  of  these,  and  in  a  mix-up  with  me, 
somebody  generally  gets  hurt." 

There  was  deadly  serenity  in  the  stranger's 
utterance,  and  the  cowboys  allowed  themselves 
to  be  persuaded  into  peace  measures,  though 
some  went  so  far  as  to  handle  guns  also.  They 
withdrew  for  a  conference,  and  Jake  said: 
"Stranger,  we're  with  you  in  this  fight;  we're 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

truck  farmers  at  the  mouth  o'  the  Cannon  Ball. 
My  name  is  Pratt." 

The  sheepman  smiled  pleasantly.  "  Mighty 
glad  to  know  you,  Mr.  Pratt.  My  name  is  Del- 
mar." 

"  This  is  my  brother  Dan,"  said  Jake,  "  and 
this  is  his  herder." 

When  Mose  took  the  small,  firm  hand  of  the 
sheepman  and  looked  into  his  face  he  liked  him, 
and  the  stranger  returned  his  liking.  "  Your 
fight  is  mine,  gentlemen,"  he  said.  "  These  cat 
tlemen  are  holding  back  settlement  for  their 
own  selfish  purposes." 

Williams,  returning  at  this  point,  began 
speaking,  but  with  effort,  and  without  looking 
at  Delmar.  "  We  don't  want  any  fuss,  so  I  want 
to  make  this  proposition.  You  take  the  north 
side  of  the  Cannon  Ball  above  the  main  trail,  and 
we'll  keep  the  south  side  and  all  the  grass  up  to 
the  trail.  That'll  give  you  range  enough  for 
your  herd  and  will  save  trouble.  We've  had  all 
the  trouble  we  want.  I  don't  want  any  gun- 
work  myself." 

To  this  the  stranger  said:  "  Very  well.  I'll 
go  look  at  the  ground.  If  it  will  support  my 
sheep  I'll  keep  them  on  it.  I  claim  to  be  a  rea 
sonable  man  also,  and  I've  had  troubles  in  my 
time,  and  now  with  a  family  growing  up  on  my 
hands  I'm  just  as  anxious  to  live  peaceable  with 
116 


The  Upward  Trail 

my  fellow-citizens  as  any  man,  but  I  want  to  say 
to  you  that  I'm  a  mean  man  when  you  try  to 
drive  me." 

Thereupon  he  shook  hands  with  Williams 
and  several  others  of  the  older  men.  After  most 
of  the  cattlemen  had  ridden  away,  Jake  said, 
"  Well,  now,  we'll  be  glad  to  see  you  over  at 
our  shack  at  the  mouth  o'  the  Cannon  Ball." 
He  held  out  his  hand  and  the  sheepman  shook 
it  heartily.  As  he  was  saying  good-by  the 
sheep  owner's  eyes  dwelt  keenly  on  Mose. 
"  Youngster,  you're  a  good  ways  from  home 
and  mother." 

Mose  blushed,  as  became  a  youth,  and  said: 
"  I'm  camping  in  my  hat  these  days." 

The  sheepman  smiled.  "  So  am  I,  but  I've 
got  a  wife  and  two  daughters  back  in  Santy  Fay. 
Come  and  see  me.  I  like  your  build.  Well, 
gentlemen,  just  call  on  me  at  any  time  you  need 
me.  I'll  see  that  my  sheep  don't  trouble  you." 

"All  right;  you  do  the  same,"  replied  the 
Pratts. 

"  You  fellows  hold  the  winning  hand,"  said 
Delmar;  "  the  small  rancher  will  sure  wipe  the 
sheepman  out  in  time.  I've  got  sense  enough 
to  see  that.  You  can't  fight  the  progress  of 
events.  Youngster,  you  belong  to  the  winning 
side,"  he  ended,  turning  to  Mose,  "  but  it's  the 
unpopular  side  just  now." 
117 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

All  this  was  epic  business  into  which  to 
plunge  a  boy  of  eighteen  whose  hot  blood  tingled 
with  electric  fire  at  sight  of  a  weapon  in  the 
hands  of  roused  and  resolute  men.  He  re 
doubled  his  revolver  practice,  and  through 
Daniel's  gossip  and  especially  through  the  boast 
ing  of  Jennie,  his  skill  with  the  revolver  soon 
became  known  to  Delmar,  who  invited  him  to 
visit  him  for  a  trial  of  skill.  "  I  used  to  shoot 
a  little  myself,"  he  said;  "  come  over  and  we'll 
try  conclusions." 

Out  of  this  friendly  contest  the  youth 
emerged  very  humble.  The  old  sheepman  daz 
zled  him  with  his  cunning.  He  shot  equally  well 
from  either  hand.  He  could  walk  by  a  tree, 
wheel  suddenly,  and  fire  both  revolvers  over  his 
shoulders,  putting  the  two  bullets  within  an  inch 
of  each  other.  "  That's  for  use  when  a  man  is 
sneaking  onto  you  from  behind,"  he  explained. 
"  I  never  used  it  but  once,  but  it  saved  my  life." 
He  could  fire  two  shots  before  Mose  could  get 
his  pistol  from  his  holster.  "  A  gun  is  of  no 
use,  youngster,  unless  you  can  get  it  into  action 
before  the  other  man.  Sling  your  holster  in 
front  and  tie  it  down  when  you're  going  to  war, 
and  never  let  a  man  come  to  close  quarters  with 
you.  The  secret  of  success  is  to  be  just  a  half 
second  ahead  of  the  other  man.  It  saves  blood, 


118 


The  Upward  Trail 

His  hands  were  quick  and  sure  as  the  rattle 
snake's  black,  forked  tongue.  He  seemed  not 
to  aim — he  appeared  to  shoot  from  his  fist  rather 
than  from  the  extended  weapon,  and  when  he 
had  finished  Mose  said: 

"  I'm  much  obliged,  Mr.  Delmar;  I  see  I 
didn't  know  the  a  b  c's — but  you  try  me  again  in 
six  months." 

The  sheepman  smiled.  "  You've  got  the 
stuff  in  you,  youngster.  If  you  ever  get  in  a 
serious  place,  and  I'm  in  reaching  distance,  let 
me  know  and  I'll  open  a  way  out  for  you.  Mean 
while,  I  can  make  use  of  you  as  you  are.  I  need 
another  man.  My  Mexicans  are  no  company 
for  me.  Come  over  and  help  me;  I'll  pay  you 
well  and  you  can  have  the  same  fare  that  I  eat 
myself.  I  get  lonesome  as  the  old  boy." 

Thus  it  came  about  that  Mose,  without  real 
izing  it,  became  that  despised,  forlorn  thing,  a 
sheep  herder.  He  made  a  serious  social  mis 
take  when  he  "  lined  up  "  with  the  truck  farmers, 
the  tenderfeet  and  the  "  greaser  "  sheep  herders, 
and  cut  out  "  a  great  gob  of  trouble  "  for  him 
self  in  Cheyenne  County. 

He  admired  Delmar  most  fervidly,  and  liked 
him.  There  was  a  quality  in  his  speech  which 
appealed  to  the  eagle's  heart  in  the  boy.  The 
Pratts  no  longer  interested  him;  they  had  set 
tled  down  into  farmers.  They  had  nothing  for 
119 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

him  to  do  but  plow  and  dig  roots,  for  which 
he  had  no  love.  He  had  not  ridden  into  this 
wild  and  splendid  country  to  bend  his  back  over 
a  spade.  One  day  he  accepted  Delmar's  offer 
and  rode  home  to  get  his  few  little  trinkets  and 
to  say  good-by. 

Another  reason  why  he  had  accepted  Del- 
mar's  offer  lay  in  the  growing  annoyance  of  Jen 
nie's  courtship.  She  made  no  effort  to  conceal 
her  growing  passion.  She  put  herself  in  his  way 
and  laid  hands  on  him  with  unblushing  frank 
ness.  Her  love  chatter  wearied  him  beyond 
measure,  and  he  became  cruelly  short  and  eva 
sive.  Her  speech  grew  sillier  as  she  lost  her 
tomboy  interests,  and  Mose  avoided  her  studi 
ously. 

That  night  as  he  rode  up  Daniel  was  at  the 
barn.  To  him  Mose  repeated  Delmar's  offer. 

Pratt  at  once  said:  "  I  don't  blame  ye  fer 
pullin'  out,  Mose.  I  done  the  best  I  could,  con- 
siderin'.  Co'se  I  can't  begin  fer  to  pay  ye  the 
wages  Delmar  can,  but  be  keerful;  trouble  is 
comin',  shore  pop,  and  I'd  hate  to  have  ye  killed, 
on  the  wimmen's  account.  They  'pear  to  think 
more  o'  you  than  they  do  o'  me." 

Jennie's  eyes  filled  with  tears  when  Mose  told 
her  of  his  new  job.     She  looked  very  sad  and 
wistful  and  more  interesting  than  ever  before  in 
her  life  as  she  came  out  to  say  good-by. 
1 20 


The  Upward  Trail 

"  Well,  Mose,  I  reckon  you're  goin'  for 
good?" 

"  Not  so  very  far,"  he  said,  in  generous  wish 
to  ease  her  over  the  parting. 

"  You'll  come  'round  once  in  a  while,  won't 
ye?" 

"Why,  sure!  It's  only  twenty  miles  over 
to  the  camp." 

"  Come  over  Sundays,  an'  we'll  have  potpie 
and  soda  biscuits  fer  ye,"  she  said,  with  a  femi 
nine  reliance  on  the  power  of  food. 

"  All  right,"  he  replied  with  a  smile,  and  ab 
ruptly  galloped  away. 

His  heart  was  light  with  the  freedom  of  his 
new  condition.  He  considered  himself  a  man 
now.  His  wages  were  definite,  and  no  distinc 
tion  was  drawn  between  him  and  Delmar  himself. 
Besides,  the  immense  flock  of  sheep  interested 
him  at  first. 

His  duties  were  simple.  By  day  he  helped 
to  guide  the  sheep  gently  to  their  feeding  and  in 
their  search  for  water;  by  night  he  took  his  turn 
at  guarding  from  wolves.  His  sleep  was  broken 
often,  even  when  not  on  guard.  They  were  such 
timid  folk,  these  sheep;  their  fears  passed  easily 
into  destructive  precipitances. 

But  the  night  watch  had  its  joys.  As  the 
sunlight  died  out  of  the  sky  and  the  blazing  stars 
filled  the  deep  blue  air  above  his  head,  the  world 

121 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

grew  mysterious  and  majestic,  as  well  as  menac 
ing.  The  wolves  clamored  from  the  buttes, 
which  arose  on  all  sides  like  domes  of  a  sleeping 
city.  Crickets  cried  in  the  grass,  drowsily,  and 
out  of  the  dimness  and  dusk  something  vast, 
like  a  passion  too  great  for  words,  fell  upon  the 
boy.  He  turned  his  face  to  the  unknown  West. 
There  the  wild  creatures  dwelt;  there  were  the 
beings  who  knew  nothing  of  books  or  towns  and 
toil.  There  life  was  governed  by  the  ways  of 
the  wind,  the  curve  of  the  streams,  the  height  of 
the  trees — there — just  over  the  edge  of  the 
plain,  the  mountains  dwelt,  waiting  for  him. 

Then  his  heart  ached  like  that  of  a  young 
eagle  looking  from  his  natal  rock  into  the  dim 
valley,  miles  below.  At  such  times  the  youth 
knew  he  had  not  yet  reached  the  land  his  heart 
desired.  All  this  was  only  resting  by  the  way. 

At  such  times,  too,  in  spite  of  all,  he  thought 
of  Mary  and  of  Jack;  they  alone  formed  his  at 
tachments  to  the  East.  All  else  was  valueless. 
To  have  had  them  with  him  in  this  land  would 
have  put  his  heart  entirely  at  rest. 


122 


CHAPTER    IX 

WAR    ON    THE    CANNON    BALL 

THE  autumn  was  very  dry,  and  as  the  feed 
grew  short  on  his  side  of  the  Cannon  Ball,  Del- 
mar  said  to  his  boss  herder,  "  Drive  the  herd 
over  the  trail,  keeping  as  close  to  the  boundary 
as  you  can.  The  valley  through  which  the  road 
runs  will  keep  us  till  November,  I  reckon." 

Of  this  Mose  knew  nothing,  and  when  he 
saw  the  sheep  drifting  across  the  line  he  set  forth 
to  turn  them.  The  herder  shouted,  "  Hold  on, 
Mose;  let  'em  go." 

Mose  did  as  he  was  ordered,  but  looked 
around  nervously,  expecting  a  charge  of  cattle 
men.  Delmar  laughed.  "  Don't  worry;  they 
won't  make  any  trouble." 

A  couple  of  days  later  a  squad  of  cowboys 
came  riding  furiously  over  the  hill.  "  See 
here!"  they  called  to  Mose,  "you  turn  that 
stinkin'  river  of  sheep  back  over  the  line." 

Mose  shouted  a  reply:  "  I'm  not  the  boss; 
go  talk  to  him.     And,  say!  you'd  better  change 
your  tune  when  you  whistle  into  his  ear." 
9  123 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

"  Oh,  hell!  "  said  one  contemptuously.  "  It's 
that  tenderfoot  of  Pratt's."  They  rode  to  the 
older  herder,  who  laughed  at  them.  "  Settle 
with  the  '  old  man/  "  he  said.  "  I'm  under  or 
ders  to  feed  these  sheep  and  I'm  goin'  to  do  it." 

"  You  take  them  sheep  back  on  your  range 
or  you  won't  have  any  to  feed,"  said  one  of  the 
cowboys. 

The  herder  blew  a  whiff  from  his  lips  as  if 
blowing  away  thistle  down.  "  Run  away,  little 
ones,  you  disturb  my  siesta." 

With  blistering  curses  on  him  and  his  sheep, 
the  cowboys  rode  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  and 
there,  turning,  fired  twice  at  the  herder,  wound 
ing  him  in  the  arm.  The  Mexican  returned  the 
fire,  but  to  no  effect. 

When  Mose  reported  this,  Delmar's  eye 
brows  drew  down  over  his  hawklike  eyes. 
"  That's  all  right,"  he  said  ominously.  "  If  they 
want  war  they'll  get  it." 

A  few  days  later  he  rode  over  toward  the 
Circle  Bar  Ranch  house.  On  the  way  he  over 
took  Williams,  riding  along  alone.  Williams 
did  not  hear  Delmar  till  he  called  sharply, 
"  Throw  up  your  hands." 

Williams  quickly  complied.     "  Don't  shoot 
— for  God's  sake!  "  he  called,  with  his  hands 
quivering  above  his  head.     He  had  heard  of  Del- 
mar's  skill  with  weapons. 
124 


War  on  the  Cannon  Ball 

"  Mr.  Williams,"  Delmar  began  with  sinister 
formality,  "  your  men  have  been  shooting  my 
herders." 

"  Not  by  my  orders,  Mr.  Delmar;  I  never 
sanction " 

"  See  here,  Williams,  you  are  responsible  for 
your  cowboys,  just  as  I  am  for  my  Mexicans. 
It's  low-down  business  for  you  to  shoot  my  men 
who  are  working  for  me  at  fifteen  dollars  a 
month.  I'm  the  responsible  party — I'm  the 
man  to  kill.  I  want  to  say  right  here  that  I 
hold  you  accountable,  and  if  your  men  maim  one 
of  my  herders  or  open  fire  on  'em  again  I'll  hunt 
you  down  and  kill  you  like  a  wolf.  Now  ride 
on,  and  if  you  look  back  before  you  top  that 
divide  I'll  put  a  bullet  through  you.  Good- 
day." 

Williams  rode  away  furiously  and  was  npt 
curious  at  all;  he  topped  the  divide  without 
stopping.  Delmar  smiled  grimly  as  he  wheeled 
his  horse  and  started  homeward. 

On  the  same  day,  as  Mose  was  lying  on  the 
point  of  a  grassy  mesa,  watching  the  sheep 
swarming  about  a  water  hole  in  the  valley  be 
low,  he  saw  a  cloud  of  dust  rising  far  up  to  the 
north.  While  he  wondered,  he  heard  a  wild, 
rumbling,  trampling  sound.  Could  it  be  a  herd 
of  buffalo?  His  blood  thrilled  with  the  hope  of 
it.  His  sheep  were  forgotten  as  the  roar  in- 
125 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

creased  and  wild  yells  came  faintly  to  his  ears. 
As  he  jerked  his  revolver  from  its  holder,  around 
the  end  of  the  mesa  a  herd  of  wild  horses  swept, 
swift  as  antelope,  with  tails  streaming,  with  eyes 
flashing,  and  behind  them,  urging  them  on, 
whooping,  yelling,  shooting,  came  a  band  of 
cowboys,  their  arms  flopping,  their  kerchiefs 
streaming. 

A  gasping  shout  arose  from  below.  "  The 
sheep!  the  sheep!"  Mose  turned  and  saw  the 
other  herders  rushing  for  their  horses.  He  real 
ized  then  the  danger  to  the  flock.  The  horses 
were  sweeping  like  a  railway  train  straight  down 
upon  the  gray,  dusty,  hot  river  of  woolly  flesh. 
Mose  shuddered  with  horror  and  pity — a  mo 
ment  later  and  the  drove,  led  by  a  powerful  and 
vicious  brown  mare,  drove  like  a  wedge  straight 
into  the  helpless  herd,  and,  leaping,  plunging, 
kicking,  stumbling,  the  powerful  and  swift  little 
bronchos  crossed,  careering  on  down  the  valley, 
leaving  hundreds  of  dead,  wounded,  and  mangled 
sheep  in  their  path.  The  cowboys  swept  on  after 
them  with  exultant  whooping,  firing  their  re 
volvers  at  the  Mexican  herders,  who  stood  in  a 
daze  over  their  torn  and  mangled  herd. 

When  Mose  recovered  from  his  stupefaction, 

his  own  horse  was  galloping  in  circles,  his  .picket 

rope  dragging,  and  the  boss  herder  was  swearing 

with  a  belated  malignity  which  was  ludicrous, 

126 


War  on  the  Cannon  Ball 

He  swept  together  into  one  steady  outpour  all 
the  native  and  alien  oaths  he  had  ever  heard  in 
a  long  and  eventful  career  among  profane  per 
sons.  When  Mose  recovered  his  horse  and  rode 
up  to  him,  Jose  was  still  swearing.  He  was 
walking  among  the  wounded  sheep,  shooting 
those  which  he  considered  helplessly  injured. 
His  mouth  was  dry,  his  voice  husky,  and  on  his 
lips  foam  lay  in  yellow  flecks.  He  ceased  to  im 
precate  only  when,  by  repetition,  his  oaths  be 
came  too  inexpressive  to  be  worth  while. 

Mose's  heart  was  boyishly  tender  for  any  ani 
mal,  and  to  see  the  gentle  creatures  mangled, 
writhing  and  tumbling,  uttering  most  piteous 
cries,  touched  him  so  deeply  that  he  wept.  He 
had  no  inclination  to  swear  until  afterward,  when 
the  full  knowledge  that  it  was  a  trick  and  not 
an  accident  came  to  him.  He  started  at  once 
for  the  camp  to  carry  the  black  news. 

Delmar  did  not  swear  when  Mose  told  him 
what  had  happened.  He  saddled  his  horse,  and, 
buckling  his  revolvers  about  him  said,  "  Come 
on,  youngster;  I'm  going  over  to  see  about 
this." 

Mose  felt  the  blood  of  his  heart  thicken  and 
grow  cold.  There  was  a  deadly  resolution  in 
Delmar's  deliberate  action.  Prevision  of  a 
bloody  fray  rilled  the  boy's  mind,  but  he  could 
not  retreat.  He  could  not  let  his  boss  go  alone 
127 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

into  an  enemy's  country;  therefore  he  rode  si 
lently  after. 

Delmar  galloped  steadily  on  toward  the  Cir 
cle  Bar  Ranch  house.  Mile  after  mile  was  trav 
ersed  at  steady  gallop  till  the  powerful  little 
ponies  streamed  with  salty  sweat.  At  last  Del- 
mar  drew  rein  and  allowed  Mose  to  ride  by  his 
side. 

"  You  needn't  be  alarmed,"  he  said  in  a  kind 
ly  tone;  "  these  hounds  won't  shoot;  they're 
going  to  evade  it,  but  I  shall  hold  'em  to  it — 
trust  me,  my  boy." 

As  they  topped  a  ridge  and  looked  down  into 
Willow  Creek,  where  the  Ranch  house  stood, 
several  horsemen  could  be  seen  riding  in  from 
the  opposite  side,  and  quite  a  group  of  men 
waited  Delmar's  approach,  and  every  man  was 
armed.  Each  face  wore  a  look  of  constraint, 
though  one  man  advanced  hospitably.  "  Good 
afternoon,  gentlemen;  ride  your  horses  right 
into  the  corral,  and  the  boys'll  take  the  saddles 
off." 

"  Where  is  Williams?  "  asked  Delmar  as  he 
slid  from  his  horse. 

"  Gone  to  town;  anything  I  can  do  for  you? 
I'm  his  boss." 

"  You  tell  Mr.  Williams,"  said  Delmar,  with 
menacing  calm,  "  I  came  to  tell  him  that  a  drove 
of  horses  belonging  partly  to  you  and  partly  to 
128 


War  on  the  Cannon  Ball 

Hartley,  of  The  Horseshoe,  were  stampeded 
through  my  sheep  yesterday,  killing  over  two 
hundred  of  them." 

Conrad  replied  softly:  "  I  know,  I  know!  I 
just  heard  of  it.  Too  bad!  but  you  understand 
how  it  is.  Herds  get  going  that  way,  and  you 
can't  stop  'em  nor  head  'em  off." 

"  Your  men  didn't  try  to  head  'em  off." 

"  How  about  that,  boys?  "  inquired  Conrad, 
turning  to  the  younger  men. 

A  long,  freckled,  grinning  ape  stepped  for 
ward. 

"  Well,  it  was  this  way:  we  was  a-tryin'  to 
head  the  herd  off,  and  we  didn't  see  the  sheep  till 
we  was  right  into  'em " 

"  That's  a  lie!"  said  Mose.  "You  drove 
the  horses  right  down  the  valley  into  the  sheep. 
I  saw  you  do  it." 

"  You  call  me  a  liar  and  I'll  blow  your  heart 
out,"  shouted  the  cowboy,  dropping  his  hand  to 
his  revolver. 

"Halt!"  said  Delmar.  "Easy  now,  you 
young  cockalorum.  It  ain't  useful  to  start 
shooting  where  Andrew  Delmar  is." 

Conrad  spoke  sharply:  "Jim,  shut  up." 
Turning  to  Mose,  "  Where  did  it  happen?  " 

"  In  Boulder  Creek,  just  south  of  the  road." 

Conrad  turned  to  Delmar  in  mock  surprise. 
"  South  of  the  road !  Your  sheep  must  o'  strayed 
129 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

over  the  line,  Mr.  Delmar.  As  they  was  on  our 
side  of  the  range  I  don't  see  that  I  can  do  any 
thing  for  you.  If  they'd  been  on  the  north 
side " 

"  That'll  do,"  interrupted  Delmar.  "  I  told 
you  that  so  long  as  the  north  side  fed  my  sheep 
I  would  keep  them  there  to  accommodate  your 
stockmen.  I  give  notice  now  that  I  shall  feed 
where  I  please,  and  I  shall  be  with  my  sheep 
night  and  day,  and  the  next  man  that  crosses  my 
sheep  will  leave  his  bones  in  the  grass  with  the 
dead  sheep,  and  likely  a  horse  or  two  besides." 
He  stepped  toward  Conrad.  "  Williams  has 
had  his  warning;  I  give  you  yours.  I  hold  you 
responsible  for  every  shot  fired  at  my  men.  If 
one  of  my  men  is  shot  I'll  kill  you  and  Williams 
at  sight.  Good-day." 

"  What'll  we  do?  "  called  one  of  the  cow 
boys. 

Delmar  turned,  and  his  eyes  took  on  a  wild 
glare. 

"  I'll  send  you  to  hell  so  quick  you  won't  be 
able  to  open  your  mouth.  Throw  up  your 
hands!"  The  man's  hands  went  up.  "  Why, 
I'd  ear-mark  ye  and  slit  each  nostril  for  a  leather 
button " 

Conrad  strove  for  peace.  "  Be  easy  on  him, 
Delmar;  he's  *a  crazy  fool,  anyway;  he  don't 
know  you." 

130       • 


War  on  the  Cannon  Ball 

"He  will  after  this,"  said  Delmar.  "I'll 
trouble  you,  Mr.  Conrad,  to  collect  all  the  guns 
from  your  men."  Mose  drew  his  revolver. 
"  My  boy  here  is  handy  too.  I  don't  care  to  be 
shot  in  the  back  as  I  ride  away.  Drop  your 
guns,  every  scab  of  ye!  " 

"I'll  bed d  if  I  do." 

"  Drop  it !  "  snapped  out  Delmar,  and  the 
tone  of  his  voice  was  terrible  to  hear.  Mose's 
heart  stopped  beating;  he  held  his  breath,  ex 
pecting  the  shooting  to  begin. 

Conrad  was  white  with  fear  as  he  said: 
"  Give  'em  up,  boys.  He's  a  desperate  man. 
Don't  shoot,  you  fools!  " 

One  by  one,  with  a  certain  amount  of  bluster 
on  the  part  of  two,  the  cowboys  dropped  their 
guns,  and  Delmar  said:  "  Gather  'em  in,  Mose." 

Mose  leaped  from  his  horse  and  gathered  the 
weapons  up.  Delmar  thrust  the  revolvers  into 
his  pockets,  and  handed  one  Winchester  to 
Mose. 

"  You'll  find  your  guns  on  that  rise  beside 
yon  rock,"  said  Delmar,  "  and  when  we  meet 
again,  it  will  be  Merry  War.  Good-day!  " 

An  angry  man  knows  no  line  of  moderation. 
Delmar,  having  declared  war,  carried  it  to  the 
door  of  the  enemy.  Accompanying  the  sheep 
himself,  he  drove  them  into  the  fairest  feeding- 
places  beside  the  clearest  streams.  He  spared 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

no  pains  to  irritate  the  cattlemen,  and  Mose, 
who  alone  of  all  the  outsiders  realized  to  the  full 
his  terrible  skill  with  weapons,  looked  forward 
with  profound  dread  to  the  fight  which  was  sure 
to  follow. 

He  dreaded  the  encounter  for  another  rea 
son.  He  had  no  definite  plan  of  action  to  follow 
in  his  own  case.  A  dozen  times  a  day  he  said  to 
himself:  "  Am  I  a  coward?"  His  stomach 
failed  him,  and  he  ate  so  sparingly  that  it  was 
commented  upon  by  the  more  hardened  men. 
He  was  the  greater  troubled  because  a  letter 
from  Jack  came  during  this  stormy  time,  where 
in  occurred  this  paragraph:  "  Mary  came  back 
to  the  autumn  term.  Her  mother  is  dead,  and 
she  looks  very  pale  and  sad.  She  asked  where 
you  were  and  said:  '  Please  tell  him  that  I  hope 
he  will  come  home  safe,  and  that  I  am  sorry  I 
could  not  see  him  before  he  went  away.' ' 

All  the  bitterness  in  his  heart  long  stored  up 
against  her  passed  away  in  a  moment,  and  sit 
ting  there  on  the  wide  plain,  under  the  burning 
sun,  he  closed  his  eyes  in  order  to  see  once  more, 
in  the  cold  gray  light  of  the  prison,  that  pale, 
grave  girl  with  the  glorious  eyes.  He  saw  her, 
too,  as  Jack  saw  her,  her  gravity  turned  into  sad 
ness,  her  pallor  into  the  paleness  of  grief  and  ill 
health.  He  admitted  now  that  no  reason  ex 
isted  why  she  should  write  to  him  while  her 
132 


War  on  the  Cannon  Ball 

mother  lay  dying.  All  cause  for  hardness  of 
heart  was  passed  away.  The  tears  came  to 
his  eyes  and  he  longed  for  the  sight  of  her 
face.  For  a  moment  the  boy's  wild  heart  grew 
tender. 

He  wrote  her  a  letter  that  night,  and  it  ran 
as  well  as  he  could  hope  for,  as  he  re-read  it  next 
day  on  his  way  to  the  post  office  twenty  miles 
away. 

"  DEAR  MARY:  Jack  has  just  sent  me  a 
long  letter  and  has  told  me  what  you  said.  I 
hope  you  will  forgive  me.  I  thought  you  didn't 
want  to  see  me  or  write  to  me.  I  didn't  know 
your  mother  was  sick.  I  thought  you  ought  to 
have  written  to  me,  but,  of  course,  I  understand 
now.  I  hope  you  will  write  in  answer  to  this 
and  send  your  picture  to  me.  You  see  I  never 
saw  you  in  daylight  and  I'm  afraid  I'll  forget 
how  you  look. 

"  Well,  I'm  out  in  the  wild  country,  but  it 
ain't  what  I  want.  I  don't  like  it  here.  The 
cowboys  are  all  the  time  rowin'.  There  ain't 
much  game  here  neither.  I  kill  an  antelope 
once  in  a  while,  or  a  deer  down  on  the  bottoms, 
but  I  haven't  seen  a  bear  or  a  buffalo  yet.  I 
want  to  go  to  the  mountains  now.  This  coun 
try  is  too  tame  for  me.  They  say  you  can  see 
the  Rockies  from  a  place  about  one  hundred 

133 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

miles  from  here.  Some  day  I'm  going  to  ride 
over  there  and  take  a  look.  I  haven't  seen  any 
Indians  yet.  We  are  likely  to  have  shooting 
soon. 

"  If  you  write,  address  to  Running  Bear, 
Cheyenne  County,  and  I'll  get  it.  I'll  go  down 
again  in  two  weeks.  Since  Jack  wrote  I  want 
to  see  you  awful  bad,  but  of  course  it  can't  be 
done,  so  write  me  a  long  letter. 

"  Yours  respectfully, 

"  HAROLD  EXCELL. 

"  Address  your  letter  to  Mose  Harding,  they 
don't  know  my  real  name  out  here.  I'll  try  to 
keep  out  of  trouble." 

He  arrived  in  Running  Bear  just  at  dusk,  and 
went  straight  to  the  post  office,  which  was  in  an 
ill-smelling  grocery.  Nothing  more  forlornly 
disreputable  than  "  the  Beast  "  (as  the  cowboys 
called  the  town)  existed  in  the  State.  It  was 
built  on  the  low  flat  of  the  Big  Sandy,  and  was 
composed  of  log  huts  (beginning  already  to  rot 
at  the  corners)  and  unpainted  shanties  of  pine, 
gray  as  granite,  under  wind  and  sun.  There 
were  two  "  hotels,"  where  for  "  two  bits  "  one 
could  secure  a  dish  of  evil-smelling  ham  and  eggs 
and  some  fried  potatoes,  and  there  were  six  sa 
loons,  where  one  could  secure  equally  evil- 
minded  whisky  at  ten  cents  a  glass.  A  couple 
134 


War  on  the  Cannon  Ball 

of  rude  groceries  completed  the  necessary  equip 
ment  of  a  "  cow-town." 

There  was  no  allurement  to  vice  in  such  a 
place  as  this  so  far  as  Mose  was  concerned,  but 
a  bunch  of  cowboys  had  just  ridden  in  for  "  a 
good  time,"  and  to  reach  the  post  office  he 
was  forced  to  pass  them.  They  studied  him 
narrowly  in  the  dusk,  and  one  fellow 
said : 

"  That's  Delmar's  sheep  herder;  let's  have 
some  fun  with  him.  Let's  convert  him." 

"  Oh,  let  him  alone;  he's  only  a  kid." 

"  Kid !  He's  big  as  he'll  ever  be.  I'm  goin' 
to  string  him  a  few  when  he  comes  out." 

Mose's  breath  was  very  short  as  he  posted  his 
letter,  for  trouble  was  in  the  air.  He  tried  his 
revolvers  to  see  that  they  were  free  in  their  hol 
sters,  and  wiped  the  sweat  from  his  hands  and 
face  with  his  big  bandanna.  He  entered  into 
conversation  with  the  storekeeper,  hoping  the 
belligerent  gang  would  ride  away.  They  had 
no  such  intention,  but  went  into  a  saloon  next 
door  to  drink,  keeping  watch  for  Mose.  One 
of  them,  a  slim,  consumptive-chested  man,  grew 
drunk  first.  He  was  entirely  harmless  when 
sober,  and  served  as  the  butt  of  all  jokes,  but 
the  evil  liquor  paralyzed  the  small  knot  of  gray 
matter  over  his  eyes  and  set  loose  his  irrespon 
sible  lower  centers.  He  threw  his  hat  on  the 
135 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

ground  and  defied  the  world  in  a  voice  absurdly 
large  and  strenuous. 

His  thin  arms  swung  aimlessly,  and  his  roar 
ing  voice  had  no  more  heart  in  it  than  the  blare 
of  a  tin  horn.  His  eyes  wandered  from  face  to 
face  in  the  circle  of  his  grinning  companions  who 
egged  him  on. 

His  insane,  reeling  capers  vastly  amused 
them.  One  or  two,  almost  as  drunk  as  he,  oc 
casionally  wrestled  with  him,  and  they  rolled  in 
the  dust  like  dirty  bear  cubs.  They  were  help 
less  so  far  as  physical  struggle  went,  but,  unfor 
tunately,  shooting  was  a  second  nature  to  them, 
and  their  hands  were  deadly. 

As  Mose  came  out  to  mount  his  horse  the 
crowd  saw  him,  and  one  vicious  voice  called  out : 

"  Here,  Bill,  here's  a  sheep  walker  can  do 
you  up.'* 

The  crowd  whooped  with  keen  delight,  and 
streaming  over,  surrounded  Mose,  who  stood  at 
bay  not  far  from  his  horse  in  the  darkness — a 
sudden  numbness  in  his  limbs. 

"  What  do  you  want  o'  me? "  he  asked. 
"  I've  nothing  to  do  with  you."  He  knew  that 
this  crowd  would  have  no  mercy  on  him  and  his 
heart  almost  failed  him. 

"  Here's  a  man  wants  to  lick  you,"  replied 
one  of  the  herders. 

The  drunken  man  was  calling  somewhere  in 

136 


War  on  the  Cannon  Ball 

the  crowd,  "  Where  is  he?  Lemme  get  at  him." 
The  ring  opened  and  he  reeled  through  and  up 
to  Mose,  who  was  standing  ominously  quiet  be 
side  his  horse.  Bill  seized  him  by  the  collar  and 
said:  "  You  want  'o  fight?  " 

"  No,"  said  Mose,  too  angry  at  the  crowd 
to  humor  the  drunken  fool.  "  You  take  him 
away  or  he'll  get  hurt." 

"  Oh,  he  will,  will  he?  " 

"  Go  for  him,  Bill,"  yelled  the  crowd  in  glee. 

The  drunken  fool  gave  Mose  a  tug.  "  Come 
'ere!  "  he  said  with  an  oath. 

"  Let  go  o'  me,"  said  Mose,  his  heart  swell 
ing  with  wrath. 

The  drunken  one  aimlessly  cuffed  him. 
Then  the  blood-red  film  dropped  over  the 
young  eagle's  eyes.  He  struck  out  and  his  as 
sailant  went  down.  Then  his  revolvers  began 
to  speak  and  the  crowd  fell  back.  They  rolled, 
leaped,  or  crawled  to  shelter,  and  when  the 
bloody  mist  cleared  away  from  his  brain,  Mose 
found  himself  in  his  saddle,  his  swift  pony  gal 
loping  hard  up  the  street,  with  pistols  cracking 
behind  him.  His  blood  was  still  hot  with  the 
murderous  rage  which  had  blinded  his  eyes.  ,  He 
did  not  know  whether  he  had  begun  to  shoot 
first  or  not,  he  did  not  know  whether  he  had 
killed  any  of  the  ruffians  or  not,  but  he  had  a 
smarting  wound  in  the  shoulder,  from  which 
137 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

he  could  feel  the  wet,  warm  blood  trickling 
down. 

Once  he  drew  his  horse  to  a  walk,  and  half 
turned  him  to  go  back  and  face  the  mob,  which 
he  could  hear  shouting  behind  him,  but  the 
thought  of  his  wound,  and  the  fear  that  his 
horse  had  also  been  hit,  led  him  to  ride  on.  He 
made  a  detour  on  the  plain,  and  entered  a  ravine 
which  concealed  him  from  the  town,  and  there 
alighted  to  feel  of  his  horse's  limbs,  fearing  each 
moment  to  come  upon  a  wound,  but  he  was  un 
hurt,  and  as  the  blood  had  ceased  to  flow  from 
his  own  wound,  the  youth  swung  into  his  saddle 
and  made  off  into  the  darkness. 

He  heard  no  sound  of  his  pursuers,  but, 
nevertheless,  rode  on  rapidly,  keeping  the  west 
wind  in  his  face  and  watching  sharply  for  fences. 
At  length  he  found  his  way  back  to  the  river 
trail  and  the  horse  galloped  steadily  homeward. 
As  he  rode  the  boy  grew  very  sad  and  discour 
aged.  He  had  again  given  away  to  the  spirit 
of  murder.  Again  he  had  intended  to  kill,  and 
he  seemed  to  see  two  falling  figures;  one,  the 
man  he  had  smitten  with  his  fist,  the  other  one 
whose  revolver  was  flashing  fire  as  he  fell. 

Then  he  thought  of  Mary  and  the  sad  look 
in  her  eyes  when  she  should  hear  of  his  fighting 
again.  She  would  not  be  able  to  get  at  the  true 
story.  She  would  not  know  that  these  men  at- 

138 


War  on  the  Cannon  Ball 

tacked  him  first  and  that  he  fought  in  self-de 
fense.  He  thought  of  his  father,  also,  with  a 
certain  tenderness,  remembering  how  he  had 
stood  by  him  in  his  trial.  "  Who  will  stand  by 
me  now?  "  he  asked  himself,  and  the  thought  of 
the  Pratts  helped  him.  Delmar,  he  felt  sure, 
would  defend  him,  but  he  knew  the  customs  of 
the  cattle  country  too  well  to  think  the  matter 
ended  there.  He  must  hereafter  shoot  or  be 
shot.  If  these  men  met  him  again  he  must  dis 
able  them  instantly  or  die.  "  Hadn't  I  better 
just  keep  right  on  riding?  "  he  kept  asking  some 
sense  within  him,  but  decided  at  last  to  return  to 
Delmar. 

It  was  deep  night  when  he  reached  the  camp, 
and  his  horse  was  covered  with  foam.  Delmar 
was  sitting  by  the  camp  fire  as  he  came  in  from 
the  dark. 

"  Hello,  boy,  what's  up?  " 

Mose  told  him  the  whole  story  in  a  few  inco 
herent  phrases.  The  old  man  examined  and 
dressed  his  wound,  but  remained  curiously  silent 
throughout  the  story.  At  last  he  said:  "  See 
here,  my  lad;  let  me  tell  you,  this  is  serious 
business.  I  don't  mean  this  scratch  of  a  bullet 
— don't  you  be  uneasy  about  that;  but  this 
whole  row  is  mine.  They  haven't  any  grudge 
against  you,  but  you're  a  sheep  herder  for  me, 
and  that  is  bad  business  just  now.  If  you've 
10  139 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

killed  a  man  they'll  come  a-rippin'  up  here  about 
daylight  with  a  warrant.  You  can't  get  justice 
in  this  country.  You'll  face  a  cowboy  jury  and 
it'll  go  hard  with  you.  There's  just  one  thing 
to  do:  you've  got  to  git  right  close  to  where  the 
west  winds  come  from  and  do  it  quick.  Throw 
the  saddles  on  Bone  and  Rusty,  and  we'll  hit 
the  trail.  I  know  a  man  who'll  take  care  of 
you." 

He  whistled  a  signal  and  one  of  the  herders 
came  in:  "  Send  Pablo  here,"  he  said.  "  Now, 
roll  up  any  little  trinkets  that  you  want  to  take 
with  you,"  he  said  a  few  minutes  later  as  they 
were  saddling  the  two  bronchos.  "  You  can't 
afford  to  stay  here  and  face  this  thing;  I  had  no 
business  to  set  you  on  the  wrong  side.  I  knew 
better  all  the  time,  but  I  liked  you,  and " 

The  herder  came  in.  "  Pablo,  I'm  going 
across  country  on  a  little  business.  If  anybody 
comes  asking  for  me  or  Mose  here,  say  you  don't 
know  where  we  went,  but  that  you  expect  us 
back  about  noon.  Be  ready  to  shoot  to-day; 
some  of  these  cowboys  may  try  to  stampede  you 
again  while  I'm  gone." 

"  You  better  stay  and  look  after  the  sheep," 
began  Mose  as  they  started  away,  "  you  can't 
afford " 

"  Oh,  to  hell  with  the  sheep.     I  got  you  into 
this  scrape  and  I'll  see  you  out  of  it." 
140 


War  on  the  Cannon  Ball 

As  they  galloped  away,  leading  Mose's  worn 
pony,  Delmar  continued:  "  You're  too  young  to 
start  in  as  a  killer.  You've  got  somebody  back 
in  the  States  who  thinks  you're  out  here  making 
a  man  of  yourself,  and  I  like  you  too  well  to  see 
you  done  up  by  these  dirty  cow-country  lawyers. 
I'm  going  to  quit  the  country  myself  after  this 
fall  shipment,  and  I  want  you  to  come  down  my 
way  some  time.  You  better  stay  up  here  till 
spring." 

They  rode  steadily  till  daylight,  and  then 
Delmar  said:  "  Now  I  think  you're  perfectly  safe, 
for  this  reason:  These  cusses  know  you  came 
into  the  country  with  Pratt,  and  they'll  likely 
ride  over  and  search  the  Cannon  Ball  settlement. 
I'll  ride  around  that  way  and  detain  'em  awhile 
and  make  'em  think  you're  hiding  out,  while 
you  make  tracks  for  upper  country.  You  keep 
this  river  trail.  Don't  ride  too  hard,  as  if  you 
was  runnin'  away^  but  keep  a  steady  gait,  and 
give  your  horse  one  hour  out  o'  four  to  feed. 
Here's  a  little  snack:  don't  waste  time,  but  slide 
along  without  sleeping  as  long  as  you  can. 

"  You'll  come  in  sight  of  the  mountains 
about  noon,  and  you'll  see  a  big  bunch  o'  snow- 
peaks  off  to  the  left.  Make  straight  for  that, 
and  after  you  go  about  one  day  bear  sharp  to 
the  left,  begin  to  inquire  for  Bob  Reynolds  on 
the  Arickaree — everybody  knows  Bob.  Just 
141 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

give  him  this  note  and  tell  him  the  whole  busi 
ness;  he'll  look  out  for  you.  Now,  good-by, 
boy.  I'm  sorry  —  but  my  intentions  were 
good." 

Mose  opened  his  heart  at  last.  "  I  don't  like 
to  desert  you  this  way,  Mr.  Delmar,"  he  said; 
"  it  ain't  right;  I'd  rather  stay  and  fight  it  out." 

"  I  won't  have  it,"  replied  Delmar. 

"  You're  going  to  have  a  lot  of  trouble." 

"  Don't  you  worry  about  me,  and  don't  you 
feel  streaked  about  pulling  your  freight.  You 
started  wrong  on  the  Cannon  Ball.  Bob  will  put 
you  right.  The  cattlemen  will  rule  there  for 
some  years  yet,  and  you  keep  on  their  side. 
Now,  good-by,  lad,  and  take  care  of  yourself." 

Mose's  voice  trembled  as  he  took  Delmar's 
hand  and  said:  "  Good-by,  Mr.  Delmar,  I'm 
awfully  obliged  to  you." 

"  That's  all  right— now  git." 

Mose,  once  more  on  his  own  horse,  galloped 
off  to  the  West,  his  heart  big  with  love  for  his 
stern  benefactor.  Delmar  sat  on  his  horse  and 
watched  the  boy  till  he  was  diminished  to  a  min 
ute  spot  on  the  dim  swells  of  the  plain.  Then 
he  wiped  a  little  moisture  from  his  eye  with  the 
back  of  his  brown,  small  hand,  and  turned  his 
horse's  head  to  the  East. 


142 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  YOUNG  EAGLE  MOUNTS 

AFTER  the  momentary  sorrow  of  parting 
from  his  good  friend,  Delmar,  the  youth's  heart 
began  to  expand  with  joy.  He  lifted  his  arms 
and  shook  them  as  the  young  eagle  exults.  He 
was  alone  on  the  wide  swells  of  plain  enacting 
a  part  of  the  wild  life  of  which  he  had  read,  and 
for  which  he  had  longed.  He  was  riding  a  swift 
horse  straight  toward  the  mystic  mountains  of 
the  West,  leaving  behind  him  the  miserable  wars 
of  the  sheep  herders  and  the  cattlemen.  Every 
leap  of  his  sturdy  pony  carried  him  deeper  into 
the  storied  land  and  farther  from  the  tumult  and 
shame  of  the  night  at  Running  Bear. 

He  was  not  one  to  morbidly  analyze,  not 
even  to  feel  remorse.  He  put  the  past  behind 
him  easily.  Before  him  small  grasshoppers 
arose  in  clapping,  buzzing  clouds.  Prairie  dogs 
squeaked  and  frisked  and  dived  needlessly  into 
their  dens.  Hawks  sailed  like  kites  in  the  glori 
ous,  golden,  hazy  air,  and  on  the  firm  sod  the 
feet  of  his  pony  steadily  drummed.  Once  a 
143 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

band  of  antelope  crossed  a  swell,  running  in  si 
lence,  jerkily,  like  a  train  of  some  singular  au 
tomatons,  moved  by  sudden,  uneven  impulses  of 
power.  The  deep-worn  buffalo  trails  seemed  so 
fresh  the  boy's  heart  quickened  with  the  thought 
that  he  might  by  chance  come  suddenly  upon 
a  stray  bunch  of  them  feeding  in  some  deep 
swale. 

He  had  passed  beyond  fences,  and  his  course 
was  still  substantially  westward.  His  eyes  con 
stantly  searched  the  misty  purple-blue  horizon 
for  a  first  glimpse  of  the  mountains,  though  he 
knew  he  could  not  possibly  come  in  sight  of 
them  so  soon.  He  rode  steadily  till  the  sun  was 
overhead,  when  he  stopped  to  let  the  pony  rest 
and  feed.  He  had  a  scanty  lunch  in  his  pocket, 
which  he  ate  without  water.  Saddling  up  an 
hour  or  two  later  he  continued  his  steady  onward 
"  shack  "  toward  the  West. 

Once  or  twice  he  passed  in  sight  of  cattle 
ranches,  but  he  rode  on  without  stopping, 
though  he  was  hungry  and  weary.  Once  he  met 
a  couple  of  cowboys  who  reined  out  and  rode  by, 
one  on  either  side  of  him,  to  see  what  brands 
were  on  his  horse.  He  was  sufficiently  waywise 
to  know  what  this  meant.  The  riders  remained 
studiously  polite  in  their  inquiries: 

"  Where  ye  from,  stranger?  " 

"  Upper  Cannon  Ball." 
144 


The  Young  Eagle  Mounts 

"Eh  — hah.  How's  the  feed  there  this 
year?  " 

"  Pretty  good." 

"  Where  ye  aimin'  at  now,  if  it's  a  fair  ques 
tion?" 

"  Bob  Reynolds'  ranch." 

"  He's  over  on  the  head  water  of  the  South 
Fork,  ain't  he?  " 

"  Yes." 

t{  Well,  it's  a  good  piece  yet.  So  long,"  they 
said  in  change  of  manner. 

"  So  long." 

They  rode  away,  still  filled  with  curiosity 
concerning  the  boy  whose  horse  plainly  showed 
hard  riding.  "  He  shore  wants  to  git  there," 
said  one  to  the  other. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  the  youth  pulled  in  his 
horse  and  studied  with  the  closest  care  a  big 
cloud  looming  in  the  sky.  All  day  snowy  thun- 
derheads  had  been  emerging  into  view  near  the 
horizon,  blooming  like  gigantic  roses  out  of  the 
deep  purple  of  the  sky,  but  this  particular  cloud 
had  not  changed  its  sharp,  clean-cut  outline  for 
an  hour,  and,  as  he  looked,  a  veil  of  vapor  sud 
denly  drifted  away  from  it,  and  Mose's  heart 
leaped  with  exultation,  as  though  a  woman's 
hand  had  been  laid  on  his  shoulder.  That  cloud- 
like  form  was  a  mountain!  It  could  be  nothing 
else,  for  while  all  around  it  other  domes  shifted 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

line  and  mass,  this  one  remained  constant,  rid 
ing  through  the  mist  as  the  moon  endures  in 
the  midst  of  the  flying  vapor  of  the  night. 

Thereafter  he  rode  with  his  eyes  on  that 
sunlit  mass.  The  land  grew  wilder.  Sharp  hills 
broke  the  smooth  expanses,  and  on  these  hills 
groves  of  dwarf  pine  appeared  in  irregular 
clumps  like  herds  of  cattle.  He  began  to  look 
for  a  camping  place,  for  he  was  very  tired.  For 
an  hour  he  led  his  spent  horse,  still  moving  to 
ward  the  far-off  shining  peak,  which  glowed 
long  after  darkness  had  fallen  on  the  plains. 
At  last  it  grew  too  dim  to  guide  him  farther, 
and  slipping  the  saddle  from  his  horse, 
he  turned  him  loose  to  feed  upon  the  bunch 
grass. 

As  the  light  faded  from  the  sky  so  the  exul 
tation  and  sense  of  freedom  went  out  of  the  boy's 
heart.  His  mind  went  back  to  the  struggle  in 
the  street.  He  felt  no  remorse,  no  pity  for  the 
drunken  fools,  but  he  was  angry  and  discouraged 
and  disgusted  with  himself.  He  had  ended  in 
failure  and  in  flight  where  he  should  have  won 
success  and  respect.  He  did  not  directly  accuse 
himself;  he  had  done  as  well  as  he  could;  he 
blamed  "  things,"  and  said  to  himself,  "  it's  my 
luck,"  by  which  he  meant  to  express  a  profound 
feeling  of  dejection  and  weakness  as  of  one  in  the 
grasp  of  inimical  powers.  By  the  working  of 


The  Young  Eagle  Mounts 

unfriendly  forces  he  was  lying  there  under  the 
pines,  hungry,  tired,  chilled,  and  lone  as  a  wolf. 
Jack  was  far  away,  Mary  lost  forever  to  him,  and 
the  officers  of  the  law  again  on  his  trail.  It  was 
a  time  to  make  a  boy  a  man,  a  bitter  and  re 
vengeful  man. 

The  night  grew  chill,  and  he  was  forced  to 
walk  up  and  down,  wrapped  in  his  saddle  blanket 
to  keep  warm.  Fuel  was  scarce,  and  his  small 
fire  sufficed  only  to  warm  him  in  minute  sec 
tions,  and  hunger  had  thinned  his  blood.  He 
was  tired  and  sleepy,  too,  but  dared  not  lie  down 
for  fear  of  being  chilled.  It  would  not  do  to 
be  ill  here  alone  in  this  land. 

It  was  the  loneliest  night  he  had  ever  known 
in  his  life.  On  the  hills  near  by  the  coyotes  kept 
up  ventriloquistic  clamor,  and  from  far  off  the 
bawling  of  great  bulls  and  the  bleating  of  the 
calves  brought  news  of  a  huge  herd  of  cattle,  but 
these  sounds  only  made  his  solitary  vigil  the 
more  impressive.  The  sleepy  chirp  of  the  crick 
ets  and  the  sound  of  his  horse  nipping  the  grass, 
calmly  careless  of  the  wolves,  were  the  only  aids 
to  sleep;  all  else  had  the  effect  to  keep  his  tense 
nerves  vibrating.  As  the  cold  intensified,  the 
crickets  ceased  to  cry,  and  the  pony,  having 
filled  his  stomach,  turned  tail  to  the  wind  and 
humped  his  back  in  drowse.  At  last,  no  friendly 
sounds  were  left  in  all  the  world,  and  shivering, 
147 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

sore,  and  sullen,  the  youth  faced  the  east  waiting 
for  the  dawn. 

As  the  first  faint  light  came  into  the  east  he 
turned  his  face  to  the  west,  anxiously  waiting  till 
the  beautiful  mountain  should  blossom  from  the 
dark.  At  last  it  came  stealing  forth,  timid,  deli 
cate,  blushing  like  a  bride  from  nuptial  cham 
ber,  ethereal  as  an  angel's  wing,  persistent  as  a 
glacial  wall.  As  it  broadened  and  bloomed, 
the  boy  threw  off  his  depression  like  a  gar 
ment.  Briskly  saddling  his  shivery  but  well- 
fed  horse  he  set  off,  keeping  more  and  more  to 
the  left,  as  his  instructions  ran.  But  no  mat 
ter  in  which  direction  he  rode,  his  eyes 
were  on  the  mountain.  "  There  is  where  I  end," 
•was  his  constantly  repeated  thought.  It 
would  have  been  easy  for  him  to  have  turned 
aside. 

Shortly  after  sunrise  he  came  upon  a  ranch 
set  deep  in  a  gully  and  sheltered  by  pinons. 
Smoke  was  curling  from  the  stovepipe,  but  no 
other  sign  of  life  could  be  detected.  He  rode 
directly  up  to  the  door,  being  now  too  hungry 
and  cold  to  pass  by  food  and  shelter,  no  matter 
what  should  follow. 

A  couple  of  cowboys,  armed  and  armored, 
came  out  lazily  but  with  menace  in  their  glances. 

"  Good  morning,"  said  Mose. 

"  Howdy,  stranger,  howdy,"  they  repeated 
148 


The  Young  Eagle  Mounts 

with  instant  heartiness.     "  Git  off  your  hoss  and 
come  in." 

"  Thanks,  I  believe  I  will.  Can  you  tell  me 
which-a-way  is  Bob  Reynolds'  ranch? "  he 
asked. 

Both  men  broke  into  grins.  "  Well,  you've 
putt'  nigh  hit  it  right  hyer.  This  is  one  o'  his 
'  line  camps.'  The  ranch  house  is  about  ten 
miles  furder  on — but  slide  off  and  eat  a  few." 

One  man  took  his  horse  while  the  other 
showed  him  into  a  big  room  where  a  huge  stack 
of  coals  on  a  rude  hearth  gave  out  a  cheerful 
heat.  It  was  an  ordinary  slab  shack  with  three 
rooms.  A  slatternly  woman  was  busy  cooking 
breakfast  in  a  little  lean-to  at  the  back  of  the 
larger  room,  a  child  was  wailing  in  a  crib,  and 
before  the  fire  two  big,  wolfish  dogs  were  sleep 
ing.  They  arose  slowly  to  sniff  lazily  at  Mose's 
garments,  and  then  returned  to  their  drowse  be 
fore  the  fire. 

"  Stranger,  you  look  putt'  nigh  beat  out," 
said  the  man  who  acted' as  host;  "  you  look  pale 
around  the  gills." 

"  I  am,"  said  Mose;  "  I  got  off  my  course 
last  night,  and  had  to  make  down  under  a  pifion. 
I  haven't  had  anything  to  eat  since  yesterday 
noon." 

"  Wai,  we'll  have  some  taters  and  sow-belly 
in  a  giff  or  two.     Want  'o  wash?  " 
149 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

Mose  gladly  took  advantage  of  the  oppor 
tunity  to  clean  the  dust  and  grime  from  his  skin, 
though  his  head  was  dizzy  with  hunger.  The 
food  was  bacon,  eggs,  and  potatoes,  but  it  was 
fairly  well  cooked,  and  he  ate  with  great  satisfac 
tion. 

The  men  were  very  much  interested  in  him, 
and  tried  to  get  at  the  heart  of  his  relation  to 
Reynolds,  but  he  evaded  them.  They  were 
lanky  Missourians,  types  already  familiar  to  him, 
and  he  did  not  care  to  make  confidants  of  them. 
The  woman  was  a  graceless  figure,  a  silent 
household  drudge,  sullenly  sad,  and  gaunt,  and 
sickly. 

Mose  offered  to  pay  for  his  breakfast,  but  the 
boss  waved  it  aside  and  said:  "  Oh,  that's  all 
right;  we  don't  see  enough  people  pass  to 
charge  for  a  breakfast.  Besides,  we're  part  o' 
the  Reynolds'  outfit,  anyway." 

As  Mose  swung  into  the  saddle  his  heart 
was  light.  Away  to  the  south  a  long  low 
cloud  of  smoke  hung.  "  What  is  that?  "  he 
asked. 

"  That's  the  bull-gine  on  the  Great  Western; 
we  got  two  railroads  now." 

"  Which  is  two  too  many,"  said  the  other 

man.     "  First  you  know  the  cattle  business  will 

be  wiped  out  o'  'Rickaree  County  just  as  it  is 

bein'  wiped  out  in  Cheyenne  and  Runnin'  Bear. 

150 


The  Young  Eagle  Mounts 

Nesters  and  cow  milkers  are  comin'  in,  and  will 
be  buildin'  fences  yet." 

"  Not  in  my  day,"  said  the  host. 

"  Well,  so  long,"  said  Mose,  and  rode  away. 

The  Reynolds'  ranch  house  was  built  close 
beside  a  small  creek  which  had  cut  deep  into  the 
bottom  of  a  narrow  valley  between  two  pifion- 
covered  hills.  It  squat  in  the  valley  like  a  tor 
toise,  but  was  much  more  comfortable  than 
most  ranch  houses  of  the  county.  It  was  sur 
rounded  by  long  sheds  and  circular  corrals  of 
pine  logs,  and  looked  to  be  what  it  was,  a  den 
in  which  to  seek  shelter.  A  blacksmith's  forge 
was  sending  up  a  shower  of  sparks  as  Mose  rode 
through  the  gate  and  up  to  the  main  stable. 

A  long-bearded  old  man  tinkering  at  some 
repairs  to  a  plow  nodded  at  the  youth  without 
speaking. 

"  Is  Mr.  Reynolds  at  home?  "  asked  Mose. 

"  No,  but  he'll  be  here  in  a  second — jest  rode 
over  the  hill  to  look  at  a  sick  colt.  Git  off  an' 
make  yuself  comfortable." 

Mose  slipped  off  his  horse  and  stood  watch 
ing  the  queer  old  fellow  as  he  squinted  and  ham 
mered  upon  a  piece  of  iron,  chewing  furiously 
meanwhile  at  his  tobacco.  It  was  plain  his  skill 
was  severely  taxed  by  the  complexity  of  the 
task  in  hand. 

As  he  stood  waiting  Mose  saw  a  pretty 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

young  woman  come  out  of  the  house  and  take  a 
babe  from  the  ground  with  matronly  impatience 
of  the  dirt  upon  its  dress. 

The  old  man  followed  the  direction  of  the 
young  man's  eyes  and  mumbled:  "  Old  man's 
girl.  ...  Her  child." 

Mose  asked  no  questions,  but  it  gave  a  new 
and  powerful  interest  to  the  graceful  figure  of 
the  girl. 

Occasionally  the  old  man  lifted  his  eyes  to 
ward  the  ridge,  as  if  looking  for  some  one,  and 
at  last  said,  "  Old  man — comin'." 

A  horseman  came  into  view  on  the  ridge, 
sitting  his  horse  with  the  grace  and  ease  of  one 
who  lives  in  the  saddle.  As  he  zig-zagged  down 
the  steep  bank,  his  pony,  a  vicious  and  powerful 
roan  "  grade,"  was  on  its  haunches  half  the  time, 
sliding,  leaping,  trotting.  The  rider,  a  smallish 
man,  with  a  brown  beard,  was  dressed  in  plain 
clothing,  much  the  worse  for  wind  and  sun.  He 
seemed  not  to  observe  the  steepness  and  rough 
ness  of  the  trail. 

As  he  rode  up  and  slipped  from  his  horse 
Mose  felt  much  drawn  to  him,  for  his  was  a  kind 
ly  and  sad  face.  His  voice,  as  he  spoke,  was 
low  and  soft,  only  his  eyes,  keen  and  searching, 
betrayed  the  resolute  plainsman. 

"  Howdy,    stranger?"   he   said   in   Southern 
fashion.     "  Glad  to  see  you,  sir," 
152 


The  Young  Eagle  Mounts 

Mose  presented  his  note  from  Delmar. 

"  From  old  Delmar,  eh?  How  did  you  leave 
him?  In  good  health  and  spirits,  I  hope." 

He  spoke  in  the  rhythmical  way  of  Tennes- 
seeans,  emphasizing  the  auxiliary  verbs  beyond 
their  usual  value.  After  reading  the  letter  he 
extended  his  hand.  "  I  am  very  glad  to  meet 
you,  sir.  I  am  indeed.  Bill,  take  care  of 
Mr. "  He  paused,  and  looked  at  the  latter. 

"Mose — Mose  Harding,"  interpolated  Mose. 

"  Put  in  Harding's  horse.  Come  right  in, 
Mr.  Harding;  I  reckon  dinner  is  in  process  of 
simmering  by  this  time." 

"  Call  me  Mose,"  said  the  youth.  "  That's 
what  Delmar  called  me." 

Reynolds  smiled.  "  Very  good,  sir;  Mose  it 
shall  be." 

They  entered  the  front  door  into  the  low- 
ceiled,  small  sitting  room  where  a  young  girl 
was  sitting  sewing,  with  a  babe  at  her  feet. 

"  My  daughter,  Mrs.  Craig,"  said  Reynolds 
gently.  "  Daughter,  this  young  man  is  Mr. 
Mose  Harding,  who  comes  from  my  old  friend 
Delmar.  He  is  going  to  stay  with  us  for  a  time. 
Sit  down,  Mose,  and  make  yourself  at  home." 

The  girl  blushed  painfully,  and  Mose  flushed 
sympathetically.  He  could  not  understand  the 
mystery,  and  ignored  her  confusion  as  far  as  pos 
sible.  The  room  was  shabby  and  well  worn.  A 
153 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

rag  carpet  covered  the  floor.  The  white  plas 
tered  walls  had  pictures  cut  from  newspapers  and 
magazines  pinned  upon  them  to  break  the  mo 
notony.  The  floor  was  littered  also  with  toys, 
clothing,  and  tools,  which  the  baby  had  pulled 
about,  but  the  room  wrought  powerfully  upon 
the  boy's  heart,  giving  him  the  first  real  touch 
of  homesickness  he  had  felt  since  leaving  the 
Burns'  farm  that  bright  March  day,  now  so  far 
away  it  seemed  that  it  was  deep  in  the  past.  For 
a  few  moments  he  could  not  speak,  and  the  girl 
was  equally  silent.  She  gathered  up  the  baby's 
clothes  and  playthings,  and  passed  into  another 
room,  leaving  the  young  man  alone. 

His  heart  was  very  tender  with  memories. 
He  thought  of  Mary  and  of  his  sister  Maud,  and 
his  throat  ached.  The  wings  of  the  young  eagle 
were  weary,  and  here  was  safety  and  rest,  he  felt 
that  intuitively,  and  when  Reynolds  returned 
with  his  wife,  a  pleasant-featured  woman  of  large 
frame,  tears  were  in  the  boy's  eyes. 

Mrs.  Reynolds  wiped  her  fingers  on  her 
apron  and  shook  hands  with  him  cordially.  "  I 
s'pose  you're  hungry  as  a  wolf.  Wai,  I'll  hurry 
up  dinner.  Mebbe  you'd  like  a  biscuit?  " 

Mose  professed  to  be  able  to  wait,  and  at  last 

convinced  the  hospitable  soul.     "  Wai,  I'll  hurry 

things  up  a  little,"  she  said  as  she  went  out. 

Reynolds,  as  he  took  a  seat,  said:    "  Delmar 

154 


The  Young  Eagle  Mounts 

writes  that  you  just  got  mixed  up  in  some  kind 
o'  fuss  down  there.  I  reckon  you  had  better  tell 
me  how  it  was." 

Mose  was  glad  to  unburden  his  heart.  As 
the  story  proceeded,  Reynolds  sat  silently  look 
ing  at  the  stove  hearth,  glancing  at  the  youth 
only  now  and  again  as  he  reached  some  dramatic 
point.  The  girl  came  back  into  the  room,  and 
as  she  listened,  her  timidity  grew  less  painful. 
The  boy's  troubles  made  a  bond  of  sympathy  be 
tween  them,  and  at  last  Mose  found  himself  tell 
ing  his  story  to  her.  Her  beautiful  brown  eyes 
grew  very  deep  and  tender  as  he  described  his 
flight,  his  hunger,  and  his  weariness. 

When  he  ended,  she  drew  a  sigh  of  sympa 
thetic  relief,  and  Reynolds  said:  "  Mm!  you 
have  no  certain  knowledge,  I  reckon,  whether 
you  killed  your  man  or  not?  " 

"  I  can't  remember.  It  was  dark.  We  fired 
a  dozen  shots.  I  am  afraid  I  hit;  I  am  too 
handy  with  the  revolver  to  miss." 

"  Mm,  so  Delmar  says.  Well,  you're  out  of 
the  State,  and  I  have  no  belief  they  will  take  the 
trouble  to  look  you  up.  Anyhow,  I  reckon  you 
better  stay  with  us  till  we  see  how  the  fuss  ends. 
You  certainly  are  a  likely  young  rider,  an'  I  can 
use  you  right  hyere  till  you  feel  like  goin'  far 
ther." 

A  wave  of  grateful  emotion  rushed  over  the 
ii  155 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

boy,  blinding  his  eyes  with  tears,  and  before  he 
could  speak  to  thank  his  benefactor,  dinner  was 
called.  The  girl  perceived  the  tears  in  his  eyes, 
and  as  they  went  out  to  dinner  she  looked  at 
him  with  a  comradeship  born  of  the  knowledge 
that  he,  too,  had  suffered. 

He  returned  her  glance  with  one  equally 
frank  and  friendly,  and  all  through  the  meal  he 
addressed  himself  to  her  more  often  than  to  her 
parents.  She  was  of  the  most  gentle,  and  pa 
tient,  and  yielding  type.  Her  beautiful  lips  and 
eyes  expressed  only  sweetness  and  feminine 
charm,  and  her  body,  though  thin  and  bent,  was 
of  girlish  slimness. 

Reynolds  warmed  to  the  boy  wondrously. 
As  they  arose  from  the  table  he  said : 

"  We'll  ride  over  to  the  round-up  to-morrow, 
and  I'll  introduce  you  to  the  cow  boss,  and  you 
can  go  right  into  the  mess.  I'll  turn  my  horse 
over  to  you;  I'm  getting  mighty  near  too  old 
to  enjoy  rustlin'  cattle  together,  and  I'll  just 
naturally  let  you  take  my  place." 


CHAPTER    XI 

ON   THE    ROUND-UP 

MOSE  was  awakened  next  morning  by  the 
whirring  of  the  coffee  mill,  a  vigorous  and 
cheerful  sound.  Mrs.  Reynolds  and  Cora  were 
busily  preparing  breakfast,  and  their  housewifely 
movements  about  the  kitchen  below  gave  the 
boy  a  singular  pleasure.  The  smell  of  meat  in 
the  pan  rose  to  his  nostrils,  and  the  cooing 
laughter  of  the  baby  added  a  final  strand  in 
a  homely  skein  of  noises.  No  household  so 
homelike  and  secure  had  opened  to  him  since 
he  said  good-by  to  his  foster  parents  in  Rock 
River. 

He  dressed  and  hurried  down  and  out  to  the 
barn.  Frost  lay  white  on  the  grass,  cattle  were 
bawling  somewhere  in  the  distance.  The  smoke 
of  the  kitchen  went  up  into  the  sky  straight  as 
a  poplar  tree.  The  beautiful  plain,  hushed  and 
rapt,  lay  waiting  for  the  sun. 

As  he  entered  the  stable,  Mose  found  Rey 
nolds  looking  carefully  at  Jack.  "  That  looks 
like  a  gentle  horse;  I  can't  see  a  mean  thing 
'57 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

about  him.  I  don't  reckon  he's  a  cow  hoss, 
is  he?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  suppose  he  is  a  regular  cow 
horse,  but  he'll  soon  learn." 

"  I  must  trade  you  outen  that  hoss.  I  cer 
tainly  am  'blieged  to  do  so.  I'm  growin'  old, 
boy.  I  don't  take  the  pleasu'  in  a  broncho  that 
I  once  did.  I  certainly  am  tired  of  hosses  I  can't 
touch  with  my  hand.  Fo'  fo'ty  yeahs  I  have 
handled  these  locoed  hosses — they  ah  all  locoed 
in  my  judgment — and  I  am  plum  tired  of  such. 
I  shall  send  to  Missouri  aw  Tennessee  and  get 
me  a  hoss  I  can  trust.  Meanwhile,  you  leave  me 
yo'  hoss  an'  take  my  bald-face  pinto  there;  he  is 
the  fastest  hoss  on  the  range  an'  a  plum  devil, 
but  that  won't  mattah  to  you,  for  you  ah  young 
an'  frisky." 

Mose  hated  to  yield  up  his  gentle  and  faith 
ful  horse  even  for  a  short  time,  but  could  not  de 
cently  refuse.  He  shifted  his  saddle  to  the  pin 
to  with  Reynolds'  help. 

"  Whoa,  there,  Wild  Cat,"  called  the  rancher, 
as  the  wicked  eyes  began  to  roll.  "  He'll  get 
usen  to  ye  after  a  day  or  two,"  he  said  reassur 
ingly. 

Mose's  horsemanship  was  on  trial,  and 
though  nervous  and  white,  he  led  the  pinto 
out  and  prepared  -to  mount. 

"  If  he  wants  to  gambol  a  little,  just  let  him 
158 


On  the  Round-Up 

go,  only  keep  his  head  up,"  said  Reynolds  with 
careless  glance. 

Cora  came  out  of  the  house  and  stood  look 
ing  on,  while  Mose  tightened  the  cinch  again, 
and  grasping  the  pommel  with  both  hands  put 
his  toe  in  the  stirrup.  The  pinto  leaped  away 
sidewise,  swift  as  a  cat,  but  before  he  could  fair 
ly  get  into  motion  Mose  was  astride,  with  both 
feet  in  the  stirrups.  With  a  series  of  savage 
sidewise  bounds,  the  horse  made  off  at  a  tearing 
pace,  thrusting  his  head  upon  the  bit  in  the  hope 
to  jerk  his  rider  out  of  his  seat.  Failing  of  this 
he  began  to  leap  like  a  sheep.  Just  as  he  was 
about  to  let  up  on  this  Mose  sank  the  rowels 
into  him  with  a  wild  yell,  and  hotly  lashed  him 
from  side  to  side  with  the  end  of  his  rope.  For 
a  few  rods  the  horse  continued  to  leap  with  stif 
fened  legs  and  upraised  back,  then  abandoned 
all  tricks  and  ran  up  the  hill  like  a  scared  ante 
lope. 

When  Reynolds  caught  up  with  his  new 
"  hand  "  he  smiled  and  said:  "  I  reckon  you  can 
be  trusted  to  look  out  fo'  yo'sef,"  and  the  heart 
of  the  youth  glowed  with  pleasure. 

Again  he  felt  the  majesty  and  splendor  of  the 
life  into  which  he  had  penetrated.  The  meas 
ureless  plain,  dimpled  and  wrinkled,  swept  down 
ward  toward  the  flaming  eastern  sky  unmarked 
of  man.  To  the  west,  cut  close  across  their 
159 


The  Eagles  Heart 

snow  tops  by  the  plain's  edge,  three  enormous 
and  snow-armored  peaks  arose,  the  sunlight 
already  glittering  on  the  thin,  new-fallen 
snows. 

Coyotes,  still  at  vigil  on  the  hills,  slid  out  of 
sight  at  the  coming  of  the  horsemen.  The 
prairie  dogs  peered  sleepily  from  their  burrows. 
Cattle  in  scattered  bands  snuffed  and  stared  or 
started  away  hulking,  yet  swift,  the  bulls  sullen 
and  ferocious,  the  calves  wild  as  deer.  There 
were  no  fences,  no  furrows,  no  wagon  tracks,  no 
sign  of  sheep.  It  was  the  cow  country  in  very 
truth. 

On  the  way  Reynolds  said  very  little.  Occa 
sionally  as  they  drew  their  ponies  to  a  walk  he 
remarked  upon  the  kindliness  of  the  horse,  and 
said,  "  I  hope  you'll  like  my  horse  as  well  as  I 
like  youah's." 

It  was  nearly  twelve  o'clock  when  they 
topped  a  treeless  ridge  and  came  in  sight  of  the 
round-up.  Below  them,  in  the  midst  of  a  wide, 
grassy  river  flat,  stood  several  tents  and  a  cov 
ered  wagon.  Nearby  lay  a  strong  circular  corral 
of  poplar  logs  filled  with  steers.  At  some  distance 
from  the  coral  a  dense  mass  of  slowly  revolving 
cattle  moved,  surrounded  by  watching  horse 
men.  Down  from  the  hills  and  up  the  valley 
came  other  horsemen,  hurrying  forward  irregu 
lar  bands  of  cows  and  calves.  A  small  fire  near 
160 


On  the  Round-Up 

the  corral  was  sending  up  a  pale  strand  of  smoke, 
and  at  the  tail  of  the  wagon  a  stovepipe,  emit 
ting  a  darker  column,  told  that  dinner  was  in 
preparation.  Over  the  scene  the  cloudless  Sep 
tember  sky  arched.  Dust  arose  under  the  heels 
of  the  herds,  and  the  bawling  roar  of  bulls,  the 
call  of  agonized  cows,  and  the  answering  bleat 
of  calves  formed  the  base  of  the  shrill  whoopings 
and  laughter  of  the  men.  Nothing  could  be 
wilder,  more  stirring,  more  picturesque,  except 
a  camp  of  Sioux  or  Cheyennes  in  the  days  of  the 
buffalo. 

In  a  few  minutes  Mose  was  in  the  midst  of 
the  turmoil.  Everyone  greeted  Reynolds  with 
affection,  and  he  replied  in  the  stately  phrases 
which  had  made  him  famous,  "  How  do  you  do, 
gentlemen.  I  certainly  am  glad  to  see  you  en- 
joyin'  this  fine  fall  day.  Captain  Charlesworth, 
allow  me  to  present  my  young  friend,  Moses 
Harding." 

Captain  Charlesworth,  a  tall  man  with  a 
squint  eye  and  a  humorous  glance,  came  up  to 
shake  hands  as  Mose  slipped  from  his  broncho. 

Reynolds  went  on:  "  Captain  Charlesworth 
is  cow  boss,  an'  will  see  that  you  earn  yo'  bo'd. 
Cap'n,  this  young  man  comes  from  my  good 
friend,  Cap'n  Delmar,  of  Sante  Fe.  You  know 
Delmar?  " 

"  I  should  think  so,"  said  the  boss.  "  It 
161 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

seems  this  youngster  kin  ride,  seein's  he's  on 
Wild  Cat." 

Reynolds  smiled:  "I  reckon  you  can  con 
sider  him  both  able  and  willin',  captain." 

"  Well,  slip  off  an'  eat.  I'll  take  care  o'  the 
cayuses." 

On  the  ground,  scattered  among  the  tents, 
and  in  the  shade  of  the  cook  wagon,  were  some 
twenty  or  thirty  herders.  For  the  most  part 
they  were  slender,  bronzed,  and  active,  of 
twenty-five  or  thirty,  with  broad  white  hats 
(faded  and  flapping  in  the  brim),  gray  or  blue 
woolen  shirts  (once  gay  with  red  lacing),  and 
dark  pantaloons,  tucked  into  tall  boots  with 
long  heels.  Spurs  jingled  at  the  heels  of  their 
tall  boots,  and  most  of  them  wore  bandannas  of 
silk  or  cotton  looped  gracefully  about  their 
necks.  A  few  of  the  younger  ones  wore  a  sort 
of  rude  outside  trouser  of  leather  called  "  chaps," 
and  each  of  them  carried  a  revolver  slung  at  the 
hip.  They  were  superb  examples  of  adaptation 
to  environment,  alert,  bold,  and  graceful  of 
movement. 

A  relay  of  them  were  already  at  dinner,  with 
a  tin  plate  full  of  "  grub  "  and  a  big  tin  cup 
steaming  with  coffee  before  each  man.  They 
sat  almost  anywhere  to  eat,  on  saddles,  wagon 
tongues — any  convenient  place.  Some  of  them, 
more  orderly,  were  squatted  along  a  sort  of 
162 


On  the  Round-Up 

table  made  of  folded  blankets  piled  through  the 
center  of  a  tent.  Here  Reynolds  took  a  seat, 
and  Mose  followed,  shrinking  a  little  from  the 
keen  scrutiny  of  the  men.  The  fact  that  Rey 
nolds  vouched  for  him,  however,  was  introduc 
tion,  and  the  cook  made  a  place  for  him  readily 
enough,  and  brought  him  a  plate  and  a  cup. 

"  Boys,"  said  Reynolds,  "  this  young  feller 
is  just  come  to  town.  His  name  is  Mose  Hard 
ing,  and  he  can  ride  a  hoss  all  right,  all  right. 
He's  agoin'  to  make  a  hand  here  in  my  place; 
treat  him  fair." 

There  was  a  moment's  awkward  pause,  and 
then  Mose  said:  "  I'm  going  to  try  to  do  my 
share." 

As  he  had  time  to  look  around  he  began  to 
individualize  the  men.  One  of  the  first  to  catch 
his  eye  was  an  Indian  who  sat  near  the  door  of 
the  tent.  He  was  dressed  like  the  other  men, 
but  was  evidently  a  full-blood.  His  skin  was 
very  dark,  not  at  all  red  or  copper  colored,  and 
Mose  inferred  that  he  was  a  Ute.  His  eyes  were 
fixed  on  Mose  with  intent  scrutiny,  and  when 
the  boy  smiled  the  Indian's  teeth  gleamed  white 
in  ready  good  nature,  and  they  were  friends  at 
once.  The  talk  was  all  about  the  work  on  hand, 
the  tussles  with  steers,  the  number  of  unbranded 
calves,  the  queries  concerning  shipment,  etc. 

Dinner  was  soon  over,  and  "  Charley,'*  as  the 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

cow  boss  was  called  by  his  men,  walked  out  with 
Mose  toward  the  corral.  "  Kin  ye  rope?  "  he 
asked. 

"  No,  not  for  a  cent." 

"  Let  him  hold  the  herd  foh  a  day  or  two," 
suggested  Reynolds.  "  Give  him  time  to  work 
in." 

"  All  right,  s'pose  you  look  after  him  this 
afternoon." 

Together  Reynolds  and  Mose  rode  out  to 
ward  the  slowly  "  milling  "  herd,  a  hungry,  hot, 
and  restless  mob  of  broadhorns,  which  required 
careful  treatment.  As  he  approached,  the  dull 
roar  of  their  movement,  their  snuffling  and 
moaning,  thrilled  the  boy.  He  saw  the  gleam 
ing,  clashing  horns  of  the  great  animals  uplift 
and  mass  and  change,  and  it  seemed  to  him 
there  were  acres  and  acres  of  them. 

Reynolds  called  out  to  two  sweating,  dusty, 
hoarse  young  fellows:  "  Go  to  grub,  boys." 

Without  a  word  they  wheeled  their  horses 
and  silently  withdrew,  while  Reynolds  became  as 
instantly  active. 

His  voice  arose  to  a  shout:  "  Now,  lively, 
Mose,  keep  an  eye  on  the  herd,  and  if  any 
cow  starts  to  break  out — lively  now — turn  him 
in." 

A  big  bay  steer,  lifting  his  head,  suddenly 
started  to  leave  the  herd.  Mose  spurred  his 
164 


On  the  Round-Up 

horse  straight  at  him  with  a  yell,  and  turned  him 
back. 

"  That's  right,"  shouted  Reynolds. 

Mose  understood  more  of  it  than  Reynolds 
realized.  He  took  his  place  in  the  cordon,  and 
aided  in  the  work  with  very  few  blunders.  The 
work  was  twofold  in  character.  Fat  cattle  were 
to  be  cut  out  of  the  herd  for  shipment,  unbrand- 
ed  calves  were  to  be  branded,  and  strays  tallied 
and  thrown  back  to  their  own  feeding  grounds. 
Into  the  crush  of  great,  dusty,  steaming  bodies, 
among  tossing,  cruel,  curving  horns  the  men 
rode  to  "  cut  out  "  the  beeves  and  to  rope  the 
calves.  It  was  a  furious  scene,  yet  there  was 
less  excitement  -than  Mose  at  first  imagined. 
Occasionally,  as  a  roper  returned,  he  paused  on 
the  edge  of  the  herd  long  enough  to  "  eat  "  a 
piece  of  tobacco  and  pass  a  quiet  word  with  a 
fellow,  then  spurring  his  horse,  re-entered  the 
herd  again.  No  matter  how  swift  his  action,  his 
eyes  were  quiet. 

It  was  hard  work;  dusty,  hot,  and  dangerous 
also.  To  be  unhorsed  in  that  struggling  mass 
meant  serious  injury  if  not  death.  The  youth 
was  glad  of  heart  to  think  that  he  was  not  re 
quired  to  enter  the  herd. 

That  night,  when  the  horse  herd  came  tear 
ing  down  the  mesa,  Reynolds  said:  "Now, 
Mose,  you  fall  heir  to  my  shift  of  horses,  too. 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

Let  me  show  them  to  you.  Each  man  has  four 
extra  horses.  That  wall-eyed  roan  is  mine,  so  is 
the  sorrel  mare  with  the  star  face.  That  big  all- 
over  bay,  the  finest  hoss  in  the  whole  outfit,  is 
mine,  too,  but  he  is  unbroken.  He  shore  is 
a  hard  problem.  I'll  give  him  to  you,  if 
you  can  break  him,  or  I'll  trade  him  for  your 
Jack." 

"  I'll  do  it,"  cried  Mose,  catching  his  breath 
in  excitement  as  he  studied  the  splendid  beast. 
His  lithe,  tigerlike  body  glittered  in  the  sun, 
though  his  uplifted  head  bore  a  tangled,  dusty 
mat  of  mane.  He  was  neglected,  wary,  and  un 
kempt,  but  he  was  magnificent.  Every  move 
ment  of  his  powerful  limbs  made  the  boy  ache 
to  be  his  master. 

Thus  Mose  took  his  place  among  the  cow 
boys.  He  started  right,  socially,  this  time.  No 
one  knew  that  he  had  been  a  sheep  herder  but 
Reynolds,  and  Reynolds  did  not  lay  it  up  against 
him.  He  was  the  equal  of  any  of  them  in  gen 
eral  horsemanship,  they  admitted  that  at  the  end 
of  the  second  day,  though  he  was  not  so  success 
ful  in  handling  cattle  as  they  thought  he  should 
be.  It  was  the  sense  of  inefficiency  in  these 
matters  which  led  him  to  give  an  exhibition  of 
his  skill  with  the  revolver  one  evening  when  the 
chance  offered.  He  shot  from  his  horse  in  all 
conceivable  positions,  at  all  kinds  of  marks,  and 
166 


On  the  Round-Up 

with  all  degrees  of  speed,  till  one  of  the  boys,  ac 
customed  to  good  shooting,  said: 

"  You  kin  jest  about  shoot." 

"That's  right,"  said  the  cow  boss;  "  I'd 
hate  to  have  him  get  a  grutch  agin  me." 

Mose  warmed  with  pardonable  pride.  He 
was  taking  high  place  in  their  ranks,  and  was 
entirely  happy  during  these  pleasant  autumn 
days.  On  his  swift  and  wise  little  ponies  he  tore 
across  the  sod  in  pursuit  of  swift  steers,  or  came 
rattling  down  a  hillside,  hot  at  the  heels  of  a 
wild-eyed  cow  and  calf,  followed  by  a  cataract  of 
pebbles.  Each  day  he  bestrode  his  saddle  till 
his  bones  cried  out  for  weariness,  and  his  stom 
ach  walls  ground  together  for  want  of  food,  but 
when  he  sat  among  his  fellows  to  eat  with-  keen 
est  pleasure  the  beef  and  beans  of  the  pot  wres 
tler's  providing,  he  was  content.  He  had  no 
time  to  think  of  Jack  or  Mary  except  on  the 
nights  when  he  took  his  trick  at  watching  the 
night  herd.  Then,  sometimes  in  the  crisp  and 
fragrant  dusk,  with  millions  of  stars  blazing 
overhead,  he  experienced  a  sweet  and  powerful 
longing  for  a  glimpse  of  the  beautiful  girlish  face 
which  had  lightened  his  days  and  nights  in 
prison. 

The  herders  were  rough,  hearty  souls,  for  the 
most  part,  often  obscene  and  rowdy  as  they  sat 
and  sang  around  the  camp  fire.  Mose  had 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

never  been  a  rude  boy;  on  the  contrary,  he  had 
always  spoken  in  rather  elevated  diction,  due,  no 
doubt,  to  the  influence  of  his  father,  whose 
speech  was  always  serious  and  well  ordered. 
Therefore,  when  the  songs  became  coarse  he 
walked  away  and  smoked  his  pipe  alone,  or 
talked  with  Jim  the  Ute,  whose  serious  and  dig 
nified  silence  was  in  vivid  contrast. 

Some  way,  coarse  speech  and  ribald  song 
brought  up,  by  the  power  of  contrast,  the  pure, 
sweet  faces  of  Mary  and  his  sister  Maud.  Two 
or  three  times  in  his  boyhood  he  had  come  near 
to  slaying  pert  lads  who  had  dared  to  utter 
coarse  words  in  his  sister's  presence.  There  was 
in  him  too  much  of  the  essence  of  the  highest 
chivalry  to  permit  such  things. 

It  happened,  therefore,  that  he  spent  much 
time  with  "  Ute  Jim,"  who  was  a  simple  and 
loyal  soul,  thoughtful,  and  possessing  a  sense  of 
humor  withal.  Mose  took  great  pleasure  in  sit 
ting  beside  the  camp  fire  with  this  son  of  the 
plains,  while  he  talked  of  the  wild  and  splendid 
life  of  the  days  before  the  white  man  came.  His 
speech  was  broken,  but  Mose  pieced  it  out  by 
means  of  the  sign  language,  so  graceful,  so  dig 
nified,  and  so  dramatic,  that  he  was  seized  with 
the  fervid  wish  to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  it. 
This  he  soon  did,  and  thereafter  they  might  be 
seen  at  any  time  of  day  signaling  from  side  to 
1 68 


On  the  Round-Up 

side  of  the  herd,  the  Indian  smiling  and  shaking 
his  head  when  the  youth  made  a  mistake. 

Jim  believed  in  his  new  friend,  and  when 
questions  brought  out  the  history  of  the  dispos 
session  of  his  people  he  grew  very  sorrowful. 
His  round  cheeks  became  rigid  and  his  eyes  were 
turned  away.  "  Injun  no  like  fight  white  man 
all  time.  Injun  gotta  fight.  White  man  crowd 
Injun  back,  back,  no  game,  no  rain,  no  corn. 
Injun  heap  like  rivers,  trees,  all  same — white 
man  no  like  'urn,  go  on  hot  plain,  no  trees,  no 
mountains,  no  game." 

But  he  threw  off  these  somber  moods  quick 
ly,  and  resumed  his  stories  of  himself,  of  long 
trips  to  the  snowpeaks,  which  he  seemed  to  re 
gard  in  the  light  of  highest  daring.  The  high 
mountains  were  not  merely  far  from  the  land 
of  his  people;  they  were  mythic  places  inhabited 
by  monstrous  animals  that  could  change  from 
beast  to  fowl,  and  talk — great,  conjuring  crea 
tures,  whose  powers  were  infinite  in  scope.  As 
the  red  man  struggled  forward  in  his  story,  at 
tempting  to  define  these  conceptions,  the  heart 
of  the  prairie  youth  swelled  with  a  poignant 
sense  of  drawing  near  a  great  mystery.  The 
conviction  of  Jim's  faith  for  the  moment  made 
him  more  than  half  believe  in  the  powers  of  the 
mountain  people.  Day  by  day  his  longing  for 
the  "  high  country  "  grew. 
169 


The  Eagles  Heart 

At  the  first  favorable  moment  he  turned  to 
the  task  of  subduing  the  splendid  bay  horse  for 
which  he  had  traded  his  gentle  Jack.  One  Sun 
day,  when  he  had  a  few  hours  off,  Mose  went 
to  Alf,  the  chief  "  roper,"  and  asked  him  to  help 
him  catch  "  Kintuck,"  as  Reynolds  called  the 
bay. 

"  All  right/'  said  Alf;  "  I'll  tie  him  up  in  a 
jiffy." 

"  Can  you  get  him  without  marking  him  all 
up?" 

"  I  don't  believe  it.  He's  going  to  thrash 
around  like  h — 1  a-blazin';  we'll  have  to  choke 
him  down." 

Mose  shook  his  head.  "  I  can't  stand  that. 
I  s'pose  it'll  skin  his  fetlocks  if  you  get  him  by 
the  feet." 

"  Oh,  it  may,  may  not;  depends  on  how  he 
struggles." 

Mose  refused  to  allow  his  shining,  proud- 
necked  stallion  to  be  roped  and  thrown,  and 
asked  the  boys  to  help  drive  him  into  a  strong 
corral,  together  with  five  or  six  other  horses. 
This  was  done,  and  stripping  himself  as  for  a 
race,  Mose  entered  the  coral  and  began  walking 
rapidly  round  and  round,  following  the  excited 
animals.  Hour  after  hour  he  kept  this  steady, 
circling  walk,  till  the  other  horses  were  weary,  till 
Kintuck  ceased  to  snort,  till  the  blaze  of  excite- 
170 


On  the  Round-Up 

ment  passed  out  of  his  eyes,  till  he  walked  with 
a  wondering  backward  glance,  as  if  to  ask: 
"  Two-legged  creature,  why  do  you  so  persist 
ently  follow  me?  " 

The  cowboys  jeered  at  first,  but  after  a  time 
they  began  to  marvel  at  the  dogged  walk  of  the 
youth.  They  gathered  about  the  walls  of  the 
corral  and  laid  bets  on  the  outcome.  At  the 
end  of  the  third  hour  Kintuck  walked  with  a 
mechanical  air,  all  the  fire  and  fury  gone  out  of 
him.  He  began  to  allow  his  pursuer  to  ap 
proach  him  closely,  almost  near  enough  to  be 
touched.  At  the  end  of  the  four  hours  he  al 
lowed  Mose  to  lay  his  hand  on  his  nose,  and  Mose 
petted  him  and  went  to  dinner.  Odds  stood  in 
Mose's  favor  as  he  returned  to  the  corral.  He 
was  covered  with  dust  and  sweat,  but  he  was 
confident.  He  began  to  speak  to  the  horse  in 
a  gentle,  firm  voice.  At  times  the  stallion  faced 
him  with  head  lifted,  a  singular  look  in  his  eyes, 
as  though  he  meditated  leaping  upon  his  captor. 
At  first  Mose  took  no  notice  of  these  actions, 
did  not  slacken  his  pace,  but  continued  to  press 
the  bay  on  and  on.  At  last  he  began  to  ap 
proach  the  horse  with  his  hand  lifted,  looking 
him  in  the  eyes  and  speaking  to  him.  Snorting 
as  if  with  terror,  the  splendid  animal  faced  him 
again  and  again,  only  to  wheel  at  the  last  mo 
ment. 

13  I/I 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

The  cowboys  were  profanely  contemptuous. 
"  Think  of  taking  all  that  trouble." 

"  Rope  him,  and  put  a  saddle  on  him  and 
bust  him,"  they  called  resoundingly. 

Mose  kept  on  steadily.  At  last,  when  all  the 
other  horses  had  been  turned  loose,  Kintuck, 
trembling,  and  with  a  curious  stare  in  his  eyes, 
again  allowed  Mose  to  lay  his  hand  on  his  nose. 
He  shrank  away,  but  did  not  wheel.  It  was 
sunset,  and  the  horse  was  not  merely  bewildered, 
he  was  physically  tired.  The  touch  of  his  mas 
ter's  hand  over  his  eyes  seemed  to  subjugate 
him,  to  take  away  his  will.  When  Mose  turned 
to  walk  away  the  horse  followed  him  as  though 
drawn  by  some  magnetic  force,  and  the  herders 
looked  at  each  other  in  amazement.  There 
after  he  had  but  to  be  accustomed  to  the 
bridle  and  saddle,  and  to  be  taught  the  duties 
of  a  cow  horse.  He  had  come  to  love  his 
master. 

This  exploit  increased  the  fame  of  "  Dandy 
Mose,"  as  the  cowboys  came  to  call  him,  because 
of  the  nature  of  his  dress.  He  was  bronzed  now, 
and  a  very  creditable  brown  mustache  added  to 
the  maturity  of  his  face.  He  was  gaunt  with 
hard  riding,  and  somber  and  reticent  in  manner, 
so  that  he  seemed  to  be  much  older  than  his 
years.  Before  the  beef  round-up  was  ended,  he 
could  rope  a  steer  fairly  well,  could  cut  out  or 
172 


On  the  Round-Up 

hold  the  herd  as  well  as  the  best,  and  in  pistol 
practice  he  had  no  equal. 

He  was  well  pleased  with  himself.  He  loved 
the  swift  riding,  the  night  watches,  the  voices 
of  wolves,  the  turmoil  of  the  camp,  the  rush  of 
the  wild  wide-horned  herd,  and  the  pounding 
roar  of  the  relay  horses  as  they  came  flying  into 
camp  of  a  morning.  It  all  suited  well  with  the 
leaping  blood  of  his  heart  and  the  restless  vigor 
of  his  limbs.  He  thought  of  his  old  home  very 
little — even  Mary  was  receding  into  the  mist  of 
distance. 

When  the  beef  herd  was  ready  to  be  driven 
to  the  shipping  point,  Reynolds  asked  him  if  he 
wished  to  go.  He  shook  his  head.  "  No,  I'll 
stay  here."  He  did  not  say  so,  but  he  was  still 
a  little  afraid  of  being  called  to  account  for  his 
actions  in  Running  Bear.  He  saw  the  herd 
move  off  with  regret,  for  he  would  have  enjoyed 
the  ride  exceedingly.  He  cared  little  for  the 
town,  though  he  would  have  liked  the  opportu 
nity  to  make  some  purchases.  He  returned  to 
the  Reynolds  ranch  to  spend  the  autumn  and  the 
winter  in  such  duties  as  the  stock  required. 

As  the  great  peaks  to  the  west  grew  whiter 
and  whiter,  looming  ever  larger  at  dawn,  the 
heart  of  the  boy  grew  restless.  The  dark  canons 
allured  him,  the  stream  babbled  strange  stories 
to  him — tales  of  the  rocky  spaces  from  which  it 


The  Eagles  Heart 

came — until  the  boy  dreamed  of  great  white 
doors  that  opened  on  wondrous  green  parks. 

One  morning  when  Cora  called  the  men  to 
breakfast  Mose  and  Jim  did  not  respond.  A 
scrawl  from  Mose  said:  "We've  gone  to  the 
mountains.  I'll  be  back  in  the  spring.  Keep 
my  outfit  for  me,  and  don't  worry." 


174 


PART    II 
CHAPTER    XII 

THE  YOUNG  EAGLE  FLUTTERS  THE  DOVE-COTE 

THE  little  town  of  Marmion  was  built  on  the 
high,  grassy,  parklike  bank  of  the  Cedar  River; 
at  least,  the  main  part  of  the  residences  and 
stores  stood  on  the  upper  level,  while  below,  be 
side  the  roaring  water,  only  a  couple  of  mills  and 
some  miserable  shacks  straggled  along  a  road 
which  ran  close  to  the  sheer  walls  of  water-worn 
limestone. 

The  town  was  considered  "  picturesque  "  by 
citizens  of  the  smaller  farm  villages  standing 
bleakly  where  the  prairie  lanes  intersected.  To 
be  able  to  live  in  Marmion  was  held  to  be  emi 
nent  good  fortune  by  the  people  roundabout, 
and  the  notion  was  worth  working  for.  "  If 
things  turn  out  well  we  will  buy  a  lot  in  Mar 
mion  and  build  a  house  there,"  husbands  occa 
sionally  said  to  their  wives  and  daughters,  to 
console  them  for  the  mud,  or  dirt,  or  heat,  or 
cold  of  the  farm  life.  One  by  one  some  of  those 
who  had  come  into  the  country  early,  and  whose 
175 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

land  had  grown  steadily  in  value  as  population 
increased,  were  able  to  rent  their  farms  to  advan 
tage  and  "  move  into  town."  Thus  the  streets 
gradually  lengthened  out  into  the  lanes,  and 
brick  blocks  slowly  replaced  the  battlemented 
wooden  stores  of  earlier  frontier  construction. 

To  Harold  Excell,  fresh  from  the  wide  spaces 
of  the  plains,  the  town  appeared  smothered  in 
leaves,  and  the  air  was  oppressively  stagnant. 
He  came  into  the  railway  station  early  one  July 
morning,  tired  and  dusty,  with  a  ride  of  two  days 
and  a  night  in  an  ordinary  coach.  As  he  walked 
slowly  up  the  street  toward  the  center  of  the 
sleeping  village,  the  odor  of  ripe  grain  and  the 
familiar  smell  of  poplar  and  maple  trees  went  to 
his  heart.  His  blood  .leaped  with  remembered 
joys.  Under  such  trees,  in  the  midst  of  such 
fragrance,  he  had  once  walked  with  his  sister 
and  with  Jack.  His  heart  swelled  with  the 
thought  of  the  Burns'  farm,  and  the  hearty 
greeting  they  would  give  him  could  he  but  ride 
up  to  the  door. 

And  Mary!  How  would  she  seem  to  him 
now?  Four  years  was  a  long  time  at  that  period 
of  a  girl's  life,  but  he  was  certain  he  would  recog 
nize  her.  He  had  not  written  to  her  of  his  com 
ing,  for  he  wished  to  announce  himself.  There 
were  elements  of  adventure  and  surprise  in  the 
plan  which  pleased  him.  He  had  not  heard 
176 


The  Eagle  Flutters  the  Dove-Cote 

from  her  for  nearly  a  year,  and  that  troubled  him 
a  little;  perhaps  she  had  moved  away  or  was 
married.  The  thought  of  losing  her  made  him 
shiver  with  sudden  doubt  of  the  good  sense  of 
his  action.  Anyhow,  he  would  soon  know. 

The  clerk  of  the  principal  hotel  was  sleeping 
on  a  cot  behind  the  counter,  and  Mose  consider 
ately  decided  not  to  wake  him.  Taking  a  seat 
by  the  window,  he  resumed  his  thinking,  while 
the  morning  light  infiltrated  the  sky.  He  was 
only  twenty-two  years  of  age,  but  in  his  own 
thought  he  had  left  boyhood  far  behind.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  he  looked  to  be  five  years  older 
than  he  was.  His  face  was  set  in  lines  indicating 
resolution  and  daring,  his  drooping  mustache 
hid  the  boyish  curves  of  his  lips,  and  he  carried 
himself  with  a  singular  grace,  self-confident,  de 
cisive,  but  not  assertive.  The  swing  of  his 
shoulders  had  charm,  and  he  walked  well.  The 
cowboy's  painful  hobble  had  not  yet  been  fas 
tened  upon  him. 

Sitting  there  waiting  the  dawn,  his  face  be 
came  tired,  somber,  almost  haggard,  with  self- 
accusing  thought.  He  was  not  yet  a  cattle 
king,  he  was,  in  fact,  still  a  cowboy.  The  time 
had  gone  by  when  a  hired  hand  could  easily  ac 
quire  a  bunch  of  cattle  and  start  in  for  himself — 
and  yet,  though  he  had  little  beyond  his  saddle 
and  a  couple  of  horses,  he  was  in  Marmion  to 
177 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

look  upon  the  face  of  the  girl  who  had  helped 
him  to  keep  "  square  "  and  clean  in  a  land  where 
dishonesty  and  vice  were  common  as  sage  brush. 
He  had  sworn  never  to  set  foot  in  Rock  River 
again,  and  no  one  but  Jack  knew  of  his  visit 
to  Marmion. 

Now  that  he  was  actually  in  the  town  where 
Mary  lived  he  was  puzzled  to  know  how  to  pro 
ceed.  He  had  wit  enough  to  know  that  in  Mar 
mion  a  girl  could  not  receive  visits  from  a 
strange  young  man  and  escape  the  fire  of  infu 
riate  gossip.  He  feared  to  expose  her  to  such 
comment,  and  yet,  having  traveled  six  hundred 
miles  to  see  her,  he  was  not  to  be  deterred  by  any 
other  considerations,  especially  by  any  affecting 
himself. 

He  knew  something,  but  not  all,  of  the  evil 
fame  his  name  conveyed  to  the  citizens  in  his 
native  State.  As  "  Harry  Excell,  alias  Black 
Mose,"  he  had  figured  in  the  great  newspapers 
of  Chicago,  and  Denver,  and  Omaha.  Imagina 
tive  and  secretly  admiring  young  reporters  had 
heaped  alliterative  words  together  to  charac 
terize  his  daring,  his  skill  as  a  marksman  and 
horseman,  and  had  also  darkly  hinted  of  his  part 
in  desperate  stage  and  railway  robbery  in  the 
Farther  West.  To  all  this — up  to  the  time  of 
his  return — Harold  had  replied,  "  These  chaps 
must  earn  a  living  some  way,  I  reckon."  He 
178 


The  Eagle  Flutters  the  Dove-Cote 

was  said  to  have  shot  down  six  men  in  his  first 
"  scrimmage."  "  No  one  presumes  to  any  im 
pertinent  inquiries  when  '  Black  Mose '  rides 
into  town." 

Another  enterprising  newspaper  youth  had 
worked  out  the  secret  history  of  "  Black  Mose  ": 
"  He  began  his  career  of  crime  early;  at  sixteen 
years  of  age  he  served  in  State's  prison  for  knif 
ing  a  rival  back  in  the  States."  This  report  en 
abled  the  Rock  River  Call  to  identify  Harold 
Excell  with  "  Black  Mose,"  to  the  pain  and  hu 
miliation  of  Pastor  Excell. 

Harold  paid  very  little  heed  to  all  this  till 
his  longing  to  see  Mary  grew  intolerable — even 
now,  waiting  for  the  Sabbath  day  to  dawn,  he 
did  not  fully  realize  the  black  shadow  which 
streamed  from  his  name  and  his  supposititious 
violences.  He  divined  enough  of  it  to  know 
that  he  must  remain  unknown  to  others,  and  he 
registered  as  "  M.  Harding,  Omaha." 

He  was  somewhat  startled  to  find  himself 
without  appetite,  and  pushing  away  his  tough 
steak  and  fried  potatoes,  he  arose  and  returned 
to  the  street.  The  problem  before  him  required 
delicacy  of  handling,  and  he  was  not  one  to  as 
sume  a  tactful  manner.  The  closer  he  came  to 
the  meeting  the  more  difficult  it  became.  He 
must  see  her  without  causing  comment,  and 
without  Jack's  aid  he  saw  no  way  of  doing  it. 
179 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

He  had  written  to  Jack,  asking  him  to  meet 
him,  and  so  he  waited. 

He  was  a  perilously  notable  figure  in  spite 
of  his  neat  black  suit  and  quiet  ways.  His  wide 
hat  sat  upon  his  head  with  a  negligence  which 
stopped  short  of  swagger,  and  his  coat  revealed 
the  splendid  lines  of  his  muscular  shoulders. 
He  had  grown  to  a  physical  manhood  which  had 
the  leopard's  lithe  grace  and  the  lion's  gravity. 
His  dimpled  and  clean-shaven  chin  was  strong, 
and  the  line  of  his  lips  firm.  His  eyes  were 
steady  and  penetrating,  giving  an  impression  of 
reticence.  His  hands  were  slender  and  brown, 
and  soft  in  the  palms  as  those  of  a  girl.  The 
citizens  marveled  over  him  as  he  moved  slowly 
through  the  streets,  thinking  himself  quite  indis 
tinguishable  among  the  other  young  men  in 
dark  suits  and  linen  collars. 

Waiting  was  most  difficult,  and  to  remain  in 
doors  was  impossible,  so  he  walked  steadily 
about  the  town.  As  he  returned  from  the  river 
road  for  the  fifth  time,  the  bells  began  to  ring 
for  church,  filling  him  with  other  memories  of 
his  youth,  of  his  father  and  his  pulpit,  and 
brought  to  his  mind  also  the  sudden  recollection 
of  one  of  Jack's  letters,  wherein  he  mentioned 
Mary's  singing  in  the  choir.  If  she  were  at 
home  she  would  be  singing  yet,  he  argued,  and 
set  forth  definitely  to  find  her. 
1 80 


The  Eagle  Flutters  the  Dove-Cote 

To  inquire  was  out  of  the  question — so  he 
started  in  at  the  largest  church  with  intent  to 
make  the  rounds.  After  waiting  till  the  choir 
was  about  to  begin  the  first  hymn,  he  slipped  in 
and  took  a  seat  near  the  door,  his  heart  beating 
loudly  and  his  breath  much  quickened. 

The  interior  was  so  familiar,  it  seemed  for  the 
moment  to  be  his  father's  church  in  Rock  River. 
The  odors,  sounds,  movements  were  quite  the 
same.  The  same  deaf  old  men,  led  by  deter 
mined,  sturdy  old  women,  were  going  up  the 
aisle  to  the  front  pews.  The  pretty  girls,  taking 
their  seats  in  the  middle  pews  (where  their  new 
hats  could  be  enjoyed  by  the  young  men  at  the 
rear)  became  Dot,  and  Alice,  and  Nettie — and 
for  the  moment  the  cowboy  was  very  boyish  and 
tender.  The  choir  assembling  above  the  pulpit 
made  him  shiver  with  emotion.  "  Perhaps  one 
of  them  will  be  Mary  and  I  won't  know  her," 
he  said  to  himself.  "  I  will  know  her  voice,"  he 
added. 

But,  as  the  soprano  took  her  place,  his  heart 
ceased  to  pound — she  was  small,  and  dark,  and 
thin.  He  arose  and  slipped  out  to  continue  his 
search. 

They  were  singing  as  he  entered  the  next 

chapel,  and  it  required  but  a  moment's  listening 

to  convince  himself  that  Mary  was  not  there. 

The  third  church  was  a  small  stone  building  of 

181 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

odd  structure,  and  while  he  hesitated  before  its 
door,  a  woman's  voice  took  up  a  solo  strain, 
powerful,  exultant,  and  so  piercingly  sweet  that 
the  plainsman  shivered  as  if  with  sudden  cold. 
Around  him  the  softly  moving  maples  threw 
dappling  shadows  on  the  walk.  The  birds  in  the 
orchards,  the  insects  in  the  grass,  the  clouds 
overhead  seemed  somehow  involved  in  the 
poetry  and  joy  of  that  song.  The  wild  heart  of 
the  young  trailer  became  like  that  of  a  child, 
made  sweet  and  tender  by  the  sovereign  power 
of  a  voice. 

He  did  not  move  till  the  clear  melody  sank 
into  the  harmony  of  the  organ,  then,  with  bent 
head  and  limbs  unwontedly  infirm,  he  entered 
the  lovely  little  audience  room.  He  stumbled 
into  the  first  seat  in  the  corner,  his  eyes  piercing 
the  colored  dusk  which  lay  between  him  and  the 
singer.  It  was  Mary,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that 
she  had  become  a  princess,  sitting  upon  a  throne. 
Accustomed  to  see  only  the  slatternly  women 
of  the  cow  towns,  or  the  thin,  hard-worked,  and 
poorly-dressed  wives  and  daughters  of  the  ranch 
ers,  he  humbled  himself  before  the  beauty  and 
dignity  and  refinement  of  this  young  singer. 

She   was    a    mature    woman,    full-bosomed, 

grave  of  feature,  introspective  of  glance.     Her 

graceful   hat,    her   daintily   gloved    hands,    her 

tasteful  dress,  impressed  the  cowboy  with  a  feel- 

182 


The  Eagle  Flutters  the  Dove-Cote 

ing  that  all  art  and  poetry  and  refinement  were 
represented  by  her.  For  the  moment  his  own 
serenity  and  self-command  were  shaken.  He 
cowered  in  his  seat  like  a  dust-covered  plowman 
in  a  parlor,  and  when  Mary  looked  in  his  direc 
tion  his  breath  quickened  and  he  shrank.  He 
was  not  yet  ready  to  have  her  recognize  him. 

The  preacher,  a  handsome  and  scholarly 
young  fellow,  arose  to  speak,  and  Harold  was  in 
terested  in  him  at  once.  The  service  had  noth 
ing  of  the  old-time  chant  or  drawl  or  drone. 
In  calm,  unhesitating  speech  the  young  man 
proceeded,  from  a  text  of  Hebrew  scripture,  to 
argue  points  of  right  and  wrong  among  men, 
and  to  urge  upon  his  congregation  right  think 
ing  and  right  action.  He  used  a  great  many  of 
the  technical  phrases  of  carpenters  and  stone 
masons  and  sailors.  He  showed  familiarity  also 
with  the  phrases  of  the  cattle  country.  Several 
times  a  low  laugh  rippled  over  his  congregation 
as  he  uttered  some  peculiarly  apt  phrase  or  made 
use  of  some  witty  illustration.  To  the  cowboy 
this  sort  of  preaching  came  with  surprise.  He 
thought :  "  The  boys  would  kieto  to  this  chap 
all  right."  He  was  not  eager  to  have  them  lis 
ten  to  Mary  singing. 

Sitting  there  amid  the  little  audience  of 
thoughtful  people,  his  brain  filled  with  new  con 
ceptions  of  the  world  and  of  human  life.  Noth- 

183 


The  Eagles  Heart 

ing  was  clearly  defined  in  the  tumult  of  opposing 
pictures.  At  one  moment  he  thought  of  his 
sister  and  his  family,  but  before  he  could  im 
agine  her  home  or  decide  on  how  to  see  her,  a 
picture  of  his  father,  or  Jack,  or  the  peaceful 
Burns'  farm  came  whirling  like  another  cloud 
before  his  brain,  and  all  the  time  his  eyes 
searched  Mary's  calm  and  beautiful  face.  He 
saw  her  smile,  too,  when  the  preacher  made  a 
telling  application  of  a  story.  How  would  she 
receive  him  after  so  many  years?  She  had  not 
answered  his  last  letter;  perhaps  she  was  mar 
ried.  Again  the  chilly  wind  from  the  canon  of 
doubt  blew  upon  him.  If  she  was,  why  that 
ended  it.  He  would  go  back  to  the  mountains 
and  never  return. 

The  minister  finished  at  last  and  Mary  arose 
again  to  sing.  She  was  taller,  Harold  per 
ceived,  and  more  matronly  in  all  ways.  As  she 
sang,  the  lonely  soul  of  the  plainsman  was  moved 
to  an  ecstasy  which  filled  his  throat  and  made  his 
eyes  misty  with  tears.  He  thought  of  his  days 
in  the  gray  prison,  and  of  this  girlish  voice  sing 
ing  like  an  angel  to  comfort  him.  She  did  not 
seem  to  be  singing  to  him  now.  She  sang  as  a 
bird  sings  out  of  abounding  health  and  happi 
ness,  and  as  she  sang,  the  mountains  retreated 
into  vast  distances.  The  rush  of  the  cattle  on 
the  drive  was  fainter  than  the  sigh  of  the  wind, 
184 


The  Eagle  Flutters  the  Dove-Cote 

and  the  fluting  of  the  Ute  lover  was  of  another 
world.  For  the  moment  he  felt  the  majesty  and 
the  irrevocableness  of  human  life. 

He  stood  in  a  shadowed  corner  at  the  close 
of  the  service  and  watched  her  come  down  the 
aisle.  As  she  drew  near  his  breath  left  him,  and 
the  desire  to  lay  his  hand  on  her  arm  became 
so  intense  that  his  fingers  locked  upon  the  back 
of  his  pew — but  he  let  her  pass.  She  glanced  at 
him  casually,  then  turned  to  smile  at  some  word 
of  the  preacher  walking  just  behind  her.  Her 
passing  was  like  music,  and  the  fragrance  of  her 
garments  was  sweeter  than  any  mountain  flower. 
The  grace  of  her  walk,  the  exquisite  fairness  of 
her  skin  subdued  him,  who  acknowledged  no 
master  and  no  mistress.  She  walked  on  out 
into  the  Sabbath  sunshine  and  he  followed, 
only  to  see  her  turn  up  the  sidewalk  close 
to  the  shoulder  of  the  handsome  young  min 
ister. 

The  lonely  youth  walked  back  to  his  hotel 
with  manner  so  changed  his  mountain  com 
panions  would  have  marveled  at  it.  A  visit 
which  had  seemed  so  simple  on  the  Arickaree 
became  each  moment  more  complicated  in  civili 
zation.  The  refined  young  minister  with  the 
brown  pointed  beard,  so  kindly  and  thoughtful 
and  wholesome  of  manner,  was  a  new  sort  of 
man  to  such  as  Harold  Excell.  He  feared  no 
185 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

rivalry  among  the  youth  of  the  village,  but  this 
scholar 

Jack  met  him  at  the  hotel — faithful  old  Jack, 
whose  freckled  face  beamed,  and  whose  spec 
tacled  eyes  were  dim  with  gladness.  They 
shook  hands  again  and  again,  crying  out  con 
fused  phrases.  "  Old  man,  how  are  you? " 
"  I'm  all  right,  how  are  you?  "  "  You  look  it." 
"  Where'd  you  find  the  red  whiskers?  "  "  They 
came  in  a  box."  "  Your  mustache  is  a  wonder." 

Ultimately  they  took  seats  and  looked  at 
each  other  narrowly  and  quietly.  Then  Harold 
said,  "  I'm  Mr.  Harding  here." 

Jack  replied:  "I  understand.  Your  father 
knows,  too.  He  wants  to  come  up  and  see  you. 
I  said  I'd  wire,  shall  I?" 

"  Of  course — if  he  wants  to  see  me — but  I 
want  to  talk  to  you  first.  I've  seen  Mary!  " 

"  Have  you?     How  did  you  manage?  " 

"  I  trailed  her.  Went  to  all  the  churches  in 
town.  She  sings  in  a  little  stone  church  over 
here." 

"  I  know.  I've  been  up  here  to  see  her  once 
or  twice  myself." 

Harold  seized  him  by  the  arm.  "  See  here, 
Jack — I  must  talk  with  her.  How  can  I  man 
age  it  without  doing  her  harm?  " 

"  That's  the  question.  If  these  people 
should  connect  you  with  '  Black  Mose  '  they'd 
1 86 


The  Eagle  Flutters  the  Dove-Cote 

form  a  procession  behind  you.  Harry,  you 
don't  know,  you  can't  imagine  the  stories 
they've  got  up  about  you.  They've  made  you 
into  a  regular  Oklahoma  Billy  the  Kid  and  train 
robber.  The  first  great  spread  was  that  fight 
you  had  at  Running  Bear,  that  got  into  the 
Omaha  papers  in  three  solid  columns  about  six 
months  after  it  happened.  Of  course  I  knew  all 
about  it  from  your  letters — no  one  had  laid  it  to 
you  then,  but  now  everybody  knows  you  are 
'  Black  Mose,'  and  if  you  should  be  recognized 
you  couldn't  see  Mary  without  doing  her  an 
awful  lot  of  harm.  You  must  be  careful." 

"  I  know  all  that,"  replied  Harold  gloomily. 
"  But  you  must  arrange  for  me  to  see  her  right 
away,  this  afternoon  or  to-night." 

"  I'll  manage  it.  They  know  me  here  and  I 
can  call  on  her  and  take  a  friend,  an  old  class 
mate,  you  see,  without  attracting  much  atten 
tion — but  it  isn't  safe  for  you  to  stay  here  long, 
somebody  is  dead-sure  to  identify  you.  They've 
had  two  or  three  pictures  of  you  going  around 
that  really  looked  like  you,  and  then  your  fa 
ther  coming  up  may  let  the  secret  out.  We 
must  be  careful.  I'll  call  on  Mary  immediately 
after  dinner  and  tell  her  you  are  here." 

"  Is  she  married?  Some  way  she  seemed  like 
a  married  woman." 

"  No,  she's  not  married,  but  the  young 
13  187 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

preacher  you  heard  this  morning  is  after  her, 
they  say,  and  he's  a  mighty  nice  chap." 

There  was  no  more  laughter  on  the  gentle, 
red-bearded  face  of  young  Burns.  Had  Harold 
glanced  at  him  sharply  at  that  moment,  he 
would  have  seen  a  tremor  in  Jack's  lips  and  a 
singular  shadow  in  his  eyes.  His  voice  indeed 
did  affect  Harold,  though  he  took  it  to  be  sym 
pathetic  sadness  only. 

Jack  brightened  up  suddenly.  "  I  can't 
really  believe  it  is  you,  Harry.  You've  grown 
so  big  and  burly,  and  you  look  so  old."  He 
smiled.  "  I  wish  I  could  see  some  of  that  shoot 
ing  they  all  tell  about,  but  that  would  let  the 
cat  out." 

Harold  could  not  be  drawn  off  to  discuss 
such  matters. 

"  Come  out  to  the  ranch  and  I'll  show  you. 
But  how  are  we  to  meet  father?  If  he  is  seen 
talking  with  me  it  may  start  people  off " 

"  I'll  tell  you.  We'll  have  him  come  up  and 
join  you  on  the  train  and  go  down  to  Rock 
River  together.  I  don't  mean  for  you  to  get 
off,  you  can  keep  right  on.  Now,  you  mustn't 
wear  that  broad  hat;  you  wear  a  grape-box 
straw  hat  while  you're  here.  Take  mine  and 
I'll  wear  a  cap." 

He  took  charge  of  Harold's  affairs  with 
ready  and  tactful  hand.  He  was  eager  to  hear 
188 


The  Eagle  Flutters  the  Dove-Cote 

his  story,  but  Harold  refused  to  talk  on  any 
other  subject  than  Mary.  At  dinner  he  sat  in 
gloomy  silence,  disregarding  his  friend's  pleas 
ant,  low-voiced  gossip  concerning  old  friends 
in  Rock  River. 

After  Jack  left  the  hotel  Harold  went  to  his 
room  and  took  a  look  at  himself  in  the  glass. 
He  was  concerned  to  see  of  what  manner  of  man 
he  really  was.  He  was  not  well-satisfied  with 
himself;  his  face  and  hands  were  too  brown  and 
leathery,  and  when  he  thought  of  his  failure  as 
a  rancher  his  brow  darkened.  He  was  as  far 
from  being  a  cattle  king  as  when  he  wrote  that 
boyish  letter  four  years  before,  and  he  had  sense 
enough  to  know  that  a  girl  of  Mary's  grace  and 
charm  does  not  lack  for  suitors.  "  Probably  she 
is  engaged  or  married,"  he  thought.  Life 
seemed  a  confusion  and  weariness  at  the  mo 
ment. 

As  soon  as  he  heard  Jack  on  the  stairs  he 
hurried  to  meet  him. 

"  What  luck?     Have  you  seen  her?  " 

Jack  closed  the  door  before  replying,  "  Yes." 

"  What  did  she  say?  " 

"  She  turned  a  little  paler  and  just  sat  still  for 
a  minute  or  two.  You  know  she  isn't  much  of 
a  talker.  Then  she  said,  '  Was  he  at  church  to 
day?  '  I  said  '  Yes  ';  then  she  said,  '  I  think  I 
saw  him.  I  saw  a  stranger  and  was  attracted 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

by  his  face,  but  of  course  I  never  thought  it 
could  be  Harold/  She  was  completely  helpless 
for  a  while,  but  as  I  talked  she  began  to  see  her 
way.  She  finally  said,  '  He  has  come  a  long 
way  and  I  must  see  him.  I  must  talk  with  him, 
but  people  must  not  know  who  he  is.'  I  told 
her  we  were  going  to  be  very  careful  for  her 
sake." 

"  That's  right,  we  must,"  Harold  inter 
rupted. 

"  She  didn't  seem  scared  about  herself.  '  It 
won't  harm  me,'  she  said,  '  but  father  is  hard  to 
manage  when  anything  displeases  him.  We 
must  be  careful  on  Harold's  account.' ' 

Harold's  throat  again  contracted  with  emo 
tion.  "  She  never  thinks  of  herself;  that's  her 
way." 

"  Now  we've  just  got  to  walk  boldly  up  the 
walk,  the  two  of  us  together,  and  call  on  her. 
I'll  introduce  you  to  her  father  or  she  will;  he 
knows  me.  We  will  talk  about  our  school  days 
while  the  old  gentleman  is  around.  He  will 
drift  away  after  a  time,  naturally.  If  he  doesn't 
I'll  take  him  out  for  a  walk." 

This  they  did.  Made  less  of  a  cowboy  by 
Jack's  straw  hat,  Harold  went  forth  on  a  trail 
whose  course  was  not  well-defined  in  his  mind, 
though  now  that  Jack  had  arranged  details  so 
deftly  that  Mary  was  not  in  clanger  Q{  being  put 
199 


The  Eagle  Flutters  the  Dove-Cote 

to  shame,  his  native  courage  and  resolution 
came  back  to  him.  In  the  full  springtide  of  his 
powerful  manhood  Mary's  name  and  face  had 
come  at  last  to  stand  for  everything  worth  hav 
ing  in  the  world,  and  like  a  bold  gambler  he  was 
staking  all  he  had  on  a  single  whirl  of  the  wheel. 

Their  meeting  was  so  self-contained  that 
only  a  close  observer  could  have  detected  the 
tension.  Mary  was  no  more  given  to  external 
izing  her  emotions  than  he.  She  met  him  with 
a  pale,  sweet,  dignified  mask  of  face.  She  put 
out  her  hand,  and  said,  "  I  am  glad  to  see  you, 
Mr.  Harding,"  but  his  eyes  burned  down  into 
hers  with  such  intensity  that  she  turned  to  es 
cape  his  glance.  "  Father,  you  know  Mr.  Burns, 
and  this  is  his  friend,  Mr.  Harding,  whom  I  used 
to  know." 

Jack  came  gallantly  to  the  rescue.  He 
talked  crops,  politics,  weather,  church  affairs, 
and  mining.  He  chattered  and  laughed  in  a  way 
which  would  have  amazed  Harold  had  he  not 
been  much  preoccupied.  He  was  unprepared 
for  the  change  in  Mary.  He  had  carried  her  in 
his  mind  all  these  years  as  a  little  slip  of  a 
maiden,  wrapt  in  expression,  somber  of  mood, 
something  half  angel  and  half  child,  and  always 
she  walked  in  a  gray  half  light,  never  in  the  sun. 
Now  here  she  faced  him,  a  dignified  woman, 
with  deep,  serene  eyes,  and  he  could  not  compre- 
191 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

hend  how  the  pale  girl  had  become  the  mag 
netic,  self-contained  woman.  He  was  thrown 
into  doubt  and  confusion,  but  so  far  from  show 
ing  this  he  sat  in  absolute  silence,  gazing  at  her 
with  eyes  which  made  her  shiver  with  emotion. 

Talk  was  purposeless  and  commonplace  at 
first,  a  painful  waiting.  Suddenly  they  missed 
Jack  and  the  father.  They  were  alone  and  free 
to  speak  their  most  important  words.  Harold 
seized  upon  the  opportunity  with  most  discon 
certing  directness. 

"  I've  come  for  you,  Mary,"  he  said,  as  if  he 
had  not  hitherto  uttered  a  word,  and  his  voice 
aroused  some  mysterious  vibration  within  her 
bosom.  "  I'm  not  a  cattle  king;  I  have  nothing 
but  two  horses,  a  couple  of  guns,  and  a  saddle — 
but  all  the  same,  here  I  am.  I  got  lonesome  for 
you,  and  at  last  I  took  the  back  trail  to  find  out 
whether  you  had  forgot  me  or  not." 

His  pause  seemed  to  require  an  answer  and 
her  lips  were  dry  as  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  No, 
I  did  not  forget,  but  I  thought  you  had  for 
gotten  me" 

"  A  man  don't  forget  such  a  girl  as  you  are, 
Mary.  You  were  in  my  mind  all  the  time. 
Your  singing  did  more  for  me  than  anything 
else.  I've  tried  to  keep  out  of  trouble  for  your 
sake.  I  haven't  succeeded  very  well  as  you 
know — but  most  of  the  stories  about  me  are  lies. 
192 


The  Eagle  Flutters  the  Dove-Cote 

I've  only  had  two  fights  and  they  were  both  in 
self-defense  and  I  don't  think  I  killed  anybody. 
I  never  know  exactly  what  I'm  doing  when  I  get 
into  a  scrap.  But  I've  kept  out  of  the  way  of 
it  on  your  account.  I  never  go  after  a  man. 
It's  pretty  hard  not  to  shoot  out  there  where 
men  go  on  the  rampage  so  often.  It's  easier 
now  than  it  used  to  be,  for  they  are  afraid  of  me." 

He  seemed  to  come  to  a  halt  in  that  direc 
tion,  and  after  a  moment's  pause  took  a  new 
start.  "  I  saw  you  at  church  to-day,  and  I  saw 
you  walk  off  with  the  minister,  and  that  gave  me 
a  sudden  jolt.  It  seemed  to  me  you — liked  him 
mighty  well " 

She  was  sitting  in  silence  and  apparent  calm 
ness,  but  she  flushed  and  her  lips  set  close  to 
gether.  It  was  evident  that  no  half-explana 
tions  would  suffice  this  soul  of  the  mountain 
land. 

He  arose  finally  and  stood  for  an  instant 
looking  at  her  with  piercing  intentness.  His 
deep  excitement  had  forced  him  to  physical  ac 
tion. 

"  I  could  see  he  was  the  man  for  you,  not  me. 
Right  there  I  felt  like  quitting.  I  went  back  to 
my  hotel  doing  more  thinking  to  the  square 
minute  than  ever  before  in  my  life,  I  reckon.  I 
ought  to  have  pulled  out  for  the  mountains 
right  then,  but  you  see,  I  had  caught  a  glimpse 
193 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

of  you  again,  and  I  couldn't.  The  smell  of  your 

dress "  he  paused  a  moment.  "  You  are 

the  finest  girl  God  ever  made  and  I  just  couldn't 
go  without  seeing  you,  at  least  once  more." 

He  was  tense,  almost  rigid  with  the  stress 
of  his  sudden  passion.  She  remained  silent  with 
eyes  fixed  upon  him,  musing  and  somber.  She 
was  slower  to  utter  emotion  than  he,  and  could 
not  speak  even  when  he  had  finished. 

He  began  to  walk  up  and  down  just  before 
her,  his  brows  moodily  knitted.  "  I'm  not  fit  to 
ask  a  girl  like  you  to  marry  me,  I  know  that. 
I've  served  time  in  jail,  and  I'm  under  indict 
ment  by  the  courts  this  very  minute  in  two 
States.  I'm  no  good  on  earth  but  to  rope  cat 
tle.  I  can't  bring  myself  to  farm  or  sell  goods 
back  here,  and  if  I  could  you  oughtn't  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  me — but  all  the  same  you're 
worth  more  to  me  than  anything  else.  I  don't 
suppose  there  has  been  an  hour  of  my  life  since 
I  met  you  first  that  I  haven't  thought  of  you.  I 
dreamed  of  you — when  I'm  riding  at  night — I 
try  to  think " 

He  stopped  abruptly  and  caught  up  her  left 
hand.  "  You've  got  a  ring  on  your  finger — is 
that  from  the  minister?  " 

Her  eyes  fled  from  his  and  she  said,  "  Yes." 

He  dropped  her  hand.  "  I  don't  blame  you 
any.  I've  made  a  failure  of  it."  His  tone 
194 


The  Eagle  Flutters  the  Dove-Cote 

was  that  of  a  bankrupt  at  fifty.  "  I  don't  know 
enough  to  write  a  letter — I'm  only  a  rough, 
tough  fool.  I  thought  you'd  be  thinking  of  me 
just  the  way  I  was  thinking  of  you,  and  there 
was  nothing  to  write  about  because  I  wasn't  get 
ting  ahead  as  I  expected.  So  I  kept  waiting  till 
something  turned  up  to  encourage  me.  Noth 
ing  did,  and  now  I'm  paid  for  it." 

His  voice  had  a  quality  which  made  her 
weep.  She  tried  to  think  of  some  words  of  com 
fort  but  could  not.  She  was  indeed  too  deeply 
concerned  with  her  own  contending  emotions. 
There  was  marvelous  appeal  in  this  powerful, 
bronzed,  undisciplined  youth.  His  lack  of  tact 
and  gallantry,  his  disconcerting  directness  of 
look  and  speech  shook  her,  troubled  her,  and 
rendered  her  weak.  She  was  but  a  year  younger 
than  he,  and  her  life  had  been  almost  as  simple 
exteriorly,  but  at  center  she  was  of  far  finer  de 
velopment.  She  had  always  been  introspective, 
and  she  had  grown  self-analytic.  She  knew  that 
the  touch  of  this  young  desperado's  hand  had 
changed  her  relation  toward  the  world.  As 
he  talked  she  listened  without  formulating  a 
reply. 

When  at  last  she  began  to  speak  she  hesi 
tated  and  her  sentences  were  broken.  "  I  am 
very  sorry — but  you  see  I  had  not  heard  from 
you  for  a  long  time — it  would  be  impossible — 
195 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

for  me  to  live  on  the  plains  so  far  away — even  if 
— even  if  I  had  not  promised  Mr.  King " 

"  Well,  that  ends  it,"  he  said  harshly,  and  his 
voice  brought  tears  again.  "  I  go  back  to  my 
cow  punching,  the  only  business  I  know.  As 
you  say,  the  cow  country  is  no  place  for  a  girl 
like  you.  It's  a  mighty  hard  place  for  women 
of  any  kind,  and  you  .  .  .  Besides,  you're  a 
singer,  you  can't  afford  to  go  with  me.  It's  all 
a  part  of  my  luck.  Things  have  gone  against 
me  from  the  start." 

He  paused  to  get  a  secure  hold  on  his  voice. 
"  Well,  now,  I'm  going,  but  I  don't  want  you  to 
forget  me;  don't  pray  for  me,  just  sing  for  me. 
I'll  hear  you,  and  it'll  help  keep  me  out  of  mis 
chief.  Will  you  do  that?  " 

«  Yes— if  you— if  it  will  help " 

Jack's  voice,  unusually  loud,  interrupted  her, 
and  when  the  father  entered,  there  was  little  out 
ward  sign  of  the  passionate  drama  just  enacted. 

"  Won't  you  sing  for  us,  Mary?  "  asked  Jack 
a  few  minutes  later. 

Mary  looked  at  Harold  significantly  and 
arose  to  comply.  Harold  sat  with  head  propped 
on  his  palm  and  eyes  fixed  immovably  upon  her 
face  while  she  sang,  If  I  Were  a  Voice.  The 
voice  was  stronger,  sweeter,  and  the  phrasing  was 
more  mature,  but  it  was  after  all  the  same  soul 
singing  through  the  prison  gloom,  straight  to 
196 


The  Eagle  Flutters  the  Dove-Cote 

his  heart.  She  charged  the  words  with  a  spe 
cial,  intimate,  tender  meaning.  She  conveyed 
to  him  the  message  she  dared  not  speak,  "  Be 
true  in  spite  of  all.  My  heart  is  sore  for  you, 
let  me  comfort  you." 

He,  on  his  part,  realized  that  one  who  could 
sing  like  that  had  a  wider  mission  in  the  world 
than  to  accompany  a  cowboy  to  the  bleak  plains 
of  the  West.  To  comfort  him  was  a  small  part 
of  her  work  in  the  world.  It  was  her  mission  to 
go  on  singing  solace  and  pleasure  to  thousands 
all  over  the  nation. 

When  she  had  finished  he  arose  and  offered 
his  hand  with  a  singular  calmness  which  moved 
the  girl  more  deeply  than  any  word  he  had  said. 
"  When  you  sing  that  song,  think  of  me,  some 
times,  will  you?  " 

"  Yes — always,"  she  replied. 

"  Good-by,"  he  said  abruptly.  Dropping 
her  hand,  he  went  out  without  speaking  another 
word. 

Jack,  taking  her  hand  in  parting,  found  it 
cold  and  nerveless. 

"  May  I  see  you  again  before  we  go?  "  he 
asked. 

Her  eyes  lighted  a  little  and  her  hand  tight 
ened  in  his.  "  Yes — I  want  to  speak  with  you/' 
she  said,  and  ended  in  a  whisper,  "  about  him." 

Jack  overtook  Harold  but  remained  silent. 
197 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

When  they  reached  their  room,  Harold  dropped 
into  a  chair  like  one  exhausted  by  a  fierce  race. 

"  This  ends  it,  Jack,  I'll  never  set  foot  in  the 
States  again;  from  this  time  on  I  keep  to  the 
mountains." 


CHAPTER   XIII 

THE  YOUNG  EAGLE  DREAMS  OF  A  MATE 

As  the  young  men  sat  at  supper  that  night 
a  note  was  handed  to  Jack  by  the  clerk.  Upon 
opening  it  he  found  a  smaller  envelope  addressed 
to  "  Mr.  Harding."  Harold  took  it,  but  did 
not  open  it,  though  it  promised  well,  being  quite 
thick  with  leaves.  Jack  read  his  note  at  a 
glance  and  passed  it  across  the  table.  It  was 
simple: 

"  DEAR  MR.  BURNS:  Won't  you  please  see 
that  the  inclosed  note  reaches  Harold.  I  wish 
you  could  persuade  him  to  come  and  see  me  once 
more  before  he  goes.  I  shall  expect  to  see  you 
anyhow.  Father  does  not  suspect  anything  out 
of  the  ordinary  as  yet,  and  it  will  be  quite  safe. 
"  Your  friend, 

"  MARY  YARDWELL." 

As  soon  as  he  decently  could  Harold  went  to 

his  room  and  opened  the  important  letter.     In  it 

the  reticent  girl  had  uttered  herself  with  unusual 

freedom.     It  was  a  long  letter,  and  its  writer 

199 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

must  have  gone  to  its  composition  at  once  after 
the  door  had  closed  upon  her  visitors.  It  began 
abruptly,  too: 

"DEAR  FRIEND:  My  heart  aches  for  you. 
From  the  time  I  first  saw  you  in  the  jail  I  have 
carried  your  face  in  my  mind.  I  can't  quite 
analyze  my  feeling  for  you  now.  You  are  so 
different  from  the  boy  I  knew.  I  think  I  am  a 
little  afraid  of  you,  you  scare  me  a  little.  You 
are  of  another  world,  a  strange  world  of  which 
I  would  like  to  hear.  I  have  a  woman's  curi 
osity,  I  can't  let  you  go  away  until  you  tell  me 
all  your  story.  I  would  like  to  say  something 
on  my  own  side  also.  Can't  you  come  and 
see  me  once  more?  My  father  is  going  to  be 
away  at  his  farm  all  day  to-morrow,  can't  you 
come  with  Mr.  Burns  and  take  dinner  with  me 
and  tell  me  all  about  yourself — your  life  is  so 
strange. 

"  There  will  be  no  one  there  (I  mean  at  din 
ner)  but  Mr.  Burns  and  you,  and  we  can  talk 
freely.  Does  being  '  under  indictment '  mean 
that  you  are  in  danger  of  arrest?  I  want  to 
understand  all  about  that.  You  can't  know 
how  strange  and  exciting  all  these  things  are  to 
me.  My  life  is  so  humdrum  here.  You  come 
into  it  like  a  great  mountain  wind.  You  take  my 
words  away  as  well  as  my  breath,  I  am  not  like 

200 


The  Young  Eagle  Dreams  of  a  Mate 

most  women,  words  are  not  easy  to  me  even 
when  I  write,  though  I  write  better  than  I  talk 
— I  think. 

"  Mr.  King  asked  me  to  be  his  wife  some 
months  ago,  and  I  promised  to  do  so,  but  that  is 
no  reason  why  we  should  not  be  good  friends. 
You  have  been  too  much  in  my  life  to  go 
out  of  it  altogether,  though  I  had  given  up 
seeing  you  again,  and  then  we  always  think  of 
our  friends  as  we  last  saw  them,  we  can't  im 
agine  their  development.  Don't  you  find  this 
so?  You  said  you  found  me  changed. 

"  I  have  little  to  tell  you  about  myself.  I 
graduated  and  then  I  spent  one  winter  in 
Chicago  to  continue  my  music  studies.  I  am 
teaching  here  summers  to  get  pin  money.  It  is 
so  quiet  here  one  grows  to  think  all  the  world 
very  far  away,  and  the  wild  things  among  which 
you  have  lived  and  worked  are  almost  unim 
aginable  even  when  the  newspapers  describe 
them  with  the  greatest  minuteness. 

;'  This  letter  is  very  rambling,  I  know,  but  I 
am  writing  as  rapidly  as  I  can,  for  I  want  to  send 
it  to  you  before  you  take  the  train.  Please 
come  to  see  me  to-morrow.  To-night  I  sing 
in  the  song  service  at  the  church.  I  hope  you 
will  be  there.  The  more  I  think  about  your 
story  the  more  eager  to  listen  I  become.  There 
must  be  some  basis  of  stirring  deeds  for  all  the 
201 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

tales  they  tell  of  you.  My  friends  say  I  have  a 
touch  of  the  literary  poison  in  my  veins;  anyhow 
I  like  a  story  above  all  things,  and  to  hear  the 
hero  tell  his  own  adventures  will  be  the  keenest 
delight. 

"  I  am  sorry  I  could  not  do  more  to  make 
things  easier  for  you  to-day,  but  I  come  of  men 
and  women  who  are  silent  when  they  mean  most. 
I  am  never  facile  of  speech  and  to-day  I  was 
dumb.  Perhaps  if  we  meet  on  a  clear  under 
standing  we  will  get  along  better.  Come,  any 
how,  and  let  me  know  you  as  you  are.  Perhaps 
I  have  never  really  known  you,  perhaps  I  only 

imagined  you. 

"  Your  friend, 

"  MARY  YARDWELL. 

"  P.  S.  The  reason  for  the  postscript  is  that 
I  have  re-read  the  foregoing  letter  and  find  it 
unsatisfactory  in  everything  except  the  expres 
sion  of  my  wish  to  see  you.  I  had  meant  to  say 
so  much  and  I  have  said  so  little.  I  am  afraid 
now  that  I  shall  not  see  you  at  all,  so  I  add  my 
promise.  I  shall  always  remember  you  and  I 
will  think  of  you  when  I  sing,  and  I  will  sing  If 
I  Were  a  Voice  every  Sunday  for  you,  especially 
when  I  am  all  alone,  and  I'll  send  it  out  to  you 
by  thought  waves.  You  shall  never  fail  of  the 

best  wishes  of 

"  MARY  YARDWELL." 
202 


The  Young  Eagle  Dreams  of  a  Mate 

Not  being  trained  in  psychologic  subtleties, 
Harold  took  this  letter  to  mean  only  what  it 
said.  He  was  not  as  profoundly  moved  by  it  as 
he  would  have  been  could  he  have  read  beneath 
the  lines  the  tumult  he  had  produced  in  the  tran 
quil  life  of  its  writer.  One  skilled  in  perception 
of  a  woman's  moods  could  have  detected  a  sense 
of  weakness,  or  irresolution,  or  longing  in  a  girl 
whose  nature  had  not  yet  been  tried  by  con 
flicting  emotions. 

Jack  perceived  something  of  this  when 
Harold  gave  him  the  letter  to  read.  His  ad 
miration  of  Harold's  grace  and  power,  his  love 
for  every  gesture  and  every  lineament  of  his  boy 
ish  hero,  made  it  possible  for  him  to  understand 
how  deeply  Mary  had  been  moved  when  brought 
face  to  face  with  a  handsome  and  powerful  man 
who  loved  as  lions  love.  He  handed  the  letter 
back  with  a  smile:  "  I  think  you'd  better  stay 
over  and  see  her." 

"  I  intend  to,"  replied  Harold;  "  wire  father 
to  come  up." 

"  Let's  go  walk.  We  may  happen  by  the 
church  where  she  sings,"  suggested  Jack. 

It  was  a  very  beautiful  hour  of  the  day.  The 
west  was  filled  with  cool,  purple-gray  clouds, 
and  a  fresh  wind  had  swept  away  all  memory  of 
the  heat  of  the  day.  Insects  filled  the  air  with 
quavering  song.  Children  were  romping  on  the 
14  2°3 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

lawns.  Lovers  sauntered  by  in  pairs  or  swung 
under  the  trees  in  hammocks.  Old  people  sat 
reading  or  listlessly  talking  beside  their  cottage 
doors.  A  few  carriages  were  astir.  It  was  a 
day  of  rest  and  peace  and  love-making  to  this 
busy  little  community.  The  mills  were  still 
and  even  the  water  seemed  to  run  less  swiftly, 
only  the  fishes  below  the  dam  had  cause  to  re 
gret  the  day's  release  from  toil,  for  on  every  rock 
a  fisherman  was  poised. 

The  tension  being  a  little  relieved,  Harold 
was  able  to  listen  to  Jack's  news  of  Rock  River. 
His  father  was  still  preaching  in  the  First  Church, 
but  several  influential  men  had  split  off  and  were 
actively  antagonizing  the  majority  of  the  con 
gregation.  The  fight  was  at  its  bitterest. 
Maud  had  now  three  children,  and  her  husband 
was  doing  well  in  hardware.  This  old  school 
mate  was  married,  that  one  was  dead,  many  had 
moved  West.  Bradley  Talcott  was  running  for 
State  Legislator.  Radbourn  was  in  Wash 
ington. 

Talking  on  quietly  the  two  young  men 
walked  out  of  the  village  into  a  lane  bordered 
with  Lombardy  poplars.  Harold  threw  himself 
down  on  the  grass  beneath  them  and  said: 

"  Now  I  can  imagine  I  am  back  on  the  old 
farm.  Tell  me  all  about  your  folks." 

"  Oh,  they're  just  the  same.  They  don't 
204 


The  Young  Eagle  Dreams  of  a  Mate 

change  much.  Father  scraped  some  money  to 
gether  and  built  a  new  bedroom  on  the  west  side. 
Mother  calls  it  '  the  boys'  room/  By  '  boys  ' 
they  mean  you  and  me.  They  expect  us  to 
sleep  there  when  you  come  back  on  a  visit. 
They'll  be  terribly  disappointed  at  not  seeing 
you.  Mother  seems  to  think  as  much  of  you 
as  she  does  of  me." 

There  was  charm  in  the  thought  of  the 
Burns'  farm  and  Mrs.  Burns  coming  and  going 
about  the  big  kitchen  stove,  the  smell  of  whole 
some  cooking  about  her  clothing,  and  for  the 
moment  the  desperado's  brain  became  as  a 
child's.  There  was  sadness  in  the  thought  that 
he  never  again  could  see  his  loyal  friends  or  the 
old  walks  and  lanes. 

Jack  aroused  him  and  they  walked  briskly 
back  toward  the  little  church  which  they  found 
already  quite  rilled  with  young  people.  The 
choir,  including  Mary,  smiled  at  the  audience 
and  at  each  other,  for  the  spirit  of  the  little 
church  was  humanly  cheerful. 

The  strangers  found  seats  in  a  corner  pew  to 
gether  with  a  pale  young  man  and  a  very  pretty 
little  girl.  Jack  was  not  imaginative,  but  he 
could  not  help  thinking  of  the  commotion  which 
would  follow  if  those  around  him  should  learn 
that  "  Black  Mose  "  was  at  that  moment  seated 
among  them.  Mary,  seeing  the  dark,  stern  face 
205 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

of  the  plainsman,  had  some  such  thought  also. 
There  was  something  gloriously  unfettered, 
compelling,  and  powerful  in  his  presence.  He 
made  the  other  young  men  appear  commonplace 
and  feeble  in  her  eyes,  and  threw  the  minister 
into  pale  relief,  emphasizing  his  serenity,  his 
scholarship,  and  his  security  of  position. 

Harold  gave  close  attention  to  the  young 
minister,  who,  as  Mary's  lover,  became  impor 
tant.  As  a  man  of  action  he  put  a  low  valua 
tion  on  a  mere  scholar,  but  King  was  by  no 
means  contemptible  physically.  Jack  also  per 
ceived  the  charm  of  such  a  man  to  Mary,  and 
acknowledged  the  good  sense  of  her  choice. 
King  could  give  her  a  pleasant  home  among 
people  she  liked,  while  Harold  could  only  ask 
her  to  go  to  the  wild  country,  to  a  log  ranch 
in  a  cottonwood  gulch,  there  to  live  month 
after  month  without  seeing  a  woman  or  a 
child. 

A  bitter  and  desperate  melancholy  fell  upon 
the  plainsman.  What  was  the  use?  Such  a 
woman  was  not  for  him.  He  had  only  the  pleas 
ure  of  the  wild  country.  He  would  go  back  to 
his  horses,  his  guns,  and  the  hills,  and  never 
again  come  under  the  disturbing  influence  of  this 
beautiful  singer.  She  was  not  of  his  world;  her 
smiles  were  not  for  him.  When  the  others 
arose  in  song  he  remained  seated,  his  sullen  face 
206 


The  Young  Eagle  Dreams  of  a  Mate 

set  toward  the  floor,  denying  himself  the  pleas 
ure  of  even  seeing  Mary's  face  as  she  sang. 

Her  voice  arose  above  the  chorus,  guiding, 
directing,  uplifting  the  less  confident  ones. 
When  she  sang  she  was  certain  of  herself,  power 
ful,  self-contained.  That  night  she  sang  with 
such  power  and  sweetness  that  the  minister 
turned  and  smiled  upon  her  at  the  end.  He 
spoke  over  the  low  railing  which  separated 
them:  "  You  surpass  yourself  to-night." 

Looking  across  the  heads  of  the  audience  as 
they  began  to  take  seats  Harold  saw  this  smile 
and  action,  and  his  face  darkened  again. 

For  her  solo  Mary  selected  one  which  ex 
pressed  in  simple  words  the  capabilities  each 
humble  soul  had  for  doing  good.  If  one  could 
not  storm  the  stars  in  song  one  could  bathe  a 
weary  brow.  If  one  could  not  write  a  mighty 
poem  one  could  speak  a  word  of  cheer  to  the 
toiler  by  the  way. 

It  was  all  poor  stuff  enough,  but  the  singer 
filled  it  with  significance  and  appeal.  At  the 
moment  it  seemed  as  if  such  things  were  really 
worth  doing.  Each  word  came  from  her  lips  as 
though  it  had  never  been  uttered  by  human  lips 
before,  so  simple,  so  musical,  so  finely  enunci 
ated,  so  well  valued  was  it.  To  Harold,  so  long 
separated  from  any  approach  to  womanly  art,  it 
appealed  with  enormous  power.  He  was  not 
207 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

only  sensitive,  he  was  just  come  to  the  passion 
and  impressionability  of  full-blooded  young  man 
hood.  Powers  converged  upon  him,  and  simple 
and  direct  as  he  was,  the  effects  were  confusion 
and  deepest  dejection.  He  heard  nothing  but 
Mary's  voice,  saw  nothing  but  her  radiant 
beauty.  To  him  she  was  more  wonderful  than 
any  words  could  express. 

At  the  end  of  the  singing  he  refused  to  wait 
till  she  came  down  the  aisle,  but  hurried  out  into 
the  open  air  away  from  the  crowd.  As  Jack 
caught  up  with  him  he  said:  "  You  go  to  bed; 
I've  got  to  take  a  run  out  into  the  country  or  I 
can't  sleep  at  all.  Father  will  be  up  in  the  morn 
ing,  I  suppose.  I'll  get  off  in  the  six  o'clock 
train  to-morrow  night." 

Jack  said  nothing,  not  even  in  assent,  and 
Mose  set  off  up  the  lane  with  more  of  mental 
torment  than  had  ever  been  his  experience  be 
fore.  Hitherto  all  had  been  simple.  He  loved 
horses,  the  wild  things,  the  trail,  the  mountains, 
the  ranch  duties,  and  the  perfect  freedom  of  a 
man  of  action.  Since  the  door  of  his  prison 
opened  to  allow  him  to  escape  into  the  West  he 
had  encountered  no  doubts,  had  endured  no  re 
morse,  and  had  felt  but  little  fear.  All  that  he 
did  was  forthright,  manly,  single-purposed,  and 
unhesitating. 

Now  all  seemed  changed.  His  horses,  his 
208 


The  Young  Eagle  Dreams  of  a  Mate 

guns,  the  joys  of  free  spaces,  were  met  by  a 
counter  allurement  which  was  the  voice  of  a 
woman.  Strong  as  he  was,  stern  as  he  looked, 
he  was  still  a  boy  in  certain  ways,  and  this  men 
tal  tumult,  so  new  and  strange  to  him,  wearied 
him  almost  to  tears.  It  was  a  fatigue,  an  ache 
which  he  could  not  shake  off,  and  when  he  re 
turned  to  the  hotel  he  had  settled  nothing  and 
was  ready  to  flee  from  it  all  without  one  back 
ward  look.  However,  he  slept  soundlier  than 
he  thought  himself  capable  of  doing. 

He  was  awakened  early  by  Jack:  "  Harry, 
your  father  is  here,  and  very  anxious  to  see  you." 

Mose  arose  slowly  and  reluctantly.  He  had 
nothing  to  say  to  his  father,  and  dreaded  the  in 
terview,  which  he  feared  would  be  unpleasantly 
emotional.  The  father  met  him  with  face  pale 
and  hands  trembling  with  emotion.  "  My  son, 
my  son!"  he  whispered.  Mose  stood  silently 
wondering  why  his  father  should  make  so  much 
fuss  over  him. 

Mr.  Excell  soon  recovered  his  self-command, 
and  his  voice  cleared.  "  I  had  almost  given  up 
seeing  you,  Harold.  I  recognize  you  with  diffi 
culty — you  have  changed  much.  You  seem 
well  and  strong — almost  as  tall  as  I  was  at  your 
age." 

"  I  hold  my  own,"  said  Harold,  and  they  all 
sat  down  more  at  ease.  "  I  got  into  rough 
209 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

gangs  out  there,  but  I  reckon  they  got  as  good 
as  they  sent." 

"  I  suppose  the  newspapers  have  greatly  ex 
aggerated  about  your  conflicts?  " 

Harold  was  a  little  disposed  to  shock  his  fa 
ther.  "  Oh,  yes,  I  don't  think  I  really  killed  as 
many  men  as  they  tell  about ;  I  don't  know  that 
I  killed  any." 

"  I  hope  you  did  not  lightly  resort  to  the  use 
of  deadly  weapons,"  said  Mr.  Excell  sadly. 

"  It  was  kill  or  be  killed,"  said  Harold  grim 
ly.  "  It  was  like  shooting  a  pack  of  howling 
wolves.  I  made  up  my  mind  to  be  just  one  shot 
ahead  of  anybody.  There  are  certain  counties 
out  there  where  the  name  '  Black  Mose '  means 
something." 

"  I'm  sorry  for  that,  my  son.  I  hope  you 
don't  drink?  " 

"  Don't  you  worry  about  that.  I  can't  af 
ford  to  drink,  and  if  I  could  I  wouldn't.  Oh,  I 
take  a  glass  of  beer  with  the  boys  once  in  a  while 
on  a  hot  day,  but  it's  my  lay  to  keep  sober.  A 
drunken  man  is  a  soft  mark."  He  changed  the 
subject:  "  Seems  to  me  you're  a  good  deal 
grayer." 

Mr.  Excell  ran  his  fingers  through  the  tum 
bled  heap  of  his  grizzled  hair.  "Yes;  things 
are  troubling  me  a  little.  The  McPhails  are 
fighting  me  in  the  church,  and  intend  to  throw 
210 


The  Young  Eagle  Dreams  of  a  Mate 

me  out  and  ruin  me  if  they  can,  but  I  shall  fight 
them  till  the  bitter  end.  I  am  not  to  be  whipped 
out  like  a  dog." 

"That's  the  talk!  Don't  let  'em  run  you 
out.  I  got  run  out  of  Cheyenne,  but  I'll  never 
run  again.  I  was  only  a  kid  then.  After  you 
throw  'em  down,  come  out  West  and  round  up 
the  cowboys.  They  won't  play  any  under 
handed  games  on  you,  and  mebbe  you  can  do 
them  some  good — especially  on  gambling. 
They  are  sure  enough  idiots  about  cards." 

They  went  down  to  breakfast  together,  but 
did  not  sit  together. 

Jack  and  Harold  talked  in  low  voices  about 
Mr.  Excell. 

"  The  old  man  looks  pretty  well  run  down, 
don't  he?  "  said  Harold. 

"  He  worries  a  whole  lot  about  you." 

"  He  needn't  to.     When  does  he  go  back?  " 

"  He  wants  to  stay  all  day — just  as  long  as 
he  can." 

"  He'd  better  pull  right  out  on  that  ten 
o'clock  train.  His  being  here  is  sure  to  give  me 
away  sooner  or  later." 

It  was  hard  for  the  father  to  say  good-by. 
He  had  a  feeling  that  it  was  the  last  time  he 
should  ever  see  him,  and  his  face  was  gray  with 
suffering  as  he  faced  his  son  for  the  last  time. 
Harold  became  not  merely  unresponsive,  he 

211 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

grew  harsher  of  voice  each  moment.  His  fa 
ther's  tremulous  and  repeated  words  seemed  to 
him  foolish  and  absurd — and  also  inconsiderate. 
After  he  was  gone  he  burst  out  in  wrath. 

"  Why  can't  he  act  like  a  man?  I  don't 
want  anybody  to  snivel  over  me.  Suppose  I  am 
to  be  shot  this  fall,  what  of  it?  " 

This  disgust  and  bitterness  prepared  him, 
strange  to  say,  for  his  call  upon  Mary.  He  en 
tered  the  house,  master  of  himself  and  the  situa 
tion.  His  nerves  were  like  steel,  and  his  stern 
face  did  not  quiver  in  its  minutest  muscle, 
though  she  met  him  in  most  gracious  mood, 
dressed  as  for  conquest  and  very  beautiful. 

"  I'm  so  glad  you  stayed  over,"  she  said.  "  I 
have  been  so  eager  to  hear  all  about  your  life  out 
there."  She  led  the  way  to  the  little  parlor 
once  more  and  drew  a  chair  near  him. 

"  Well/'  he  began,  "  it  isn't  exactly  the  kind 
of  life  your  Mr.  King  leads." 

There  was  a  vengeful  sneer  in  his  voice  which 
Mary  felt  as  if  he  had  struck  her,  but  she  said 
gently: 

"  I  suppose  our  life  does  seem  very  tame  to 
you  now." 

"  It's  sure  death.  I  couldn't  stand  it  for  a 
year;  I'd  rot." 

Mary  was  aware  that  some  sinister  change 
had  come  over  him,  and  she  paused  to  study  him 
212 


The  Young  Eagle  Dreams  of  a  Mate 

keenly.  The  tremulous  quality  of  his  voice  and 
action  had  passed  away.  He  was  hard,  stern, 
self-contained,  and  she  (without  being  a  co 
quette)  determined  that  his  mood  should  give 
way  to  hers.  He  set  himself  hard  against  the 
charm  of  her  lovely  presence  and  the  dainty 
room.  Mary  ceased  to  smile,  but  her  brows  re 
mained  level. 

"  You  men  seem  to  think  that  all  women  are 
fond  only  of  the  quiet  things,  but  it  isn't  true. 
We  like  the  big  deeds  in  the  open  air,  too.  I'd 
like  to  see  a  cattle  ranch  and  take  a  look  at  a 
'  round-up/  though  I  don't  know  exactly  what 
that  means." 

"  Well,  we're  not  on  the  round-up  all  the 
time,"  he  said,  relaxing  a  little.  "  It's  pretty 
quiet  part  of  the  time;  that  is,  quiet  for  our 
country.  But  then,  you're  always  on  a  horse 
and  you're  out  in  the  air  on  the  plains  with  the 
mountains  in  sight.  There's  a  lot  of  hard  work 
about  it,  too,  and  it's  lonesome  sometimes  when 
your're  ridin'  the  lines,  but  I  like  it.  When  it 
gets  a  little  too  tame  for  me  I  hit  the  trail  for  the 
mountains  with  an  Indian.  The  Ogallalahs  are 
my  friends,  and  I'm  going  to  spend  the  winter 
with  them  and  then  go  into  the  West  Elk  coun 
try.  I'm  due  to  kill  a  grizzly  this  year  and  some 
mountain  sheep."  He  was  started  now,  and 
Mary  had  only  to  listen.  "  Before  I  stop,  I'm 
213 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

going  to  know  all  there  is  to  know  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  With  ol'  Kintuck  and  my  Win 
chester  I'm  goin'  to  hit  the  sunset  trail  and  hit  it 
hard.  There's  nothing  to  keep  me  now,"  he 
said  with  a  sudden  glance  at  her.  "  It  don't 
matter  where  I  turn  up  or  pitch  camp.  I  reckon 
I'd  better  not  try  to  be  a  cattle  king."  He 
smiled  bitterly  and  pitilessly  at  the  poor  figure 
he  cut.  "  I  reckon  I'm  a  kind  of  a  mounted 
hobo  from  this  on." 

"  But  your  father  and  sister " 

"  Oh,  she  isn't  worryin'  any  about  me;  I 
haven't  had  a  letter  from  her  for  two  years.  All 
I've  got  now  is  Jack,  and  he'd  be  no  earthly 
good  on  the  trail.  He'd  sure  lose  his  glasses  in 
a  fight,  and  then  he  couldn't  tell  a  grizzly  from  a 
two-year-old  cow.  So  you  see,  there's  nothing 
to  hinder  me  from  going  anywhere.  I'm  foot 
loose.  I  want  to  spend  one  summer  in  the  Flat 
Top  country.  Ute  Jim  tells  me  it's  fine.  Then 
I  want  to  go  into  the  Wind  River  Mountains  for 
elk.  Old  Talfeather,  chief  of  the  Ogallalahs, 
has  promised  to  take  me  into  the  Big  Horn 
Range.  After  that  I'm  going  down  into  the 
southwest,  down  through  the  Uncompagre 
country.  Reynolds  says  they're  the  biggest  yet, 
and  I'm  going  to  keep  right  down  into  the  Na- 
vajo  reservation.  I've  got  a  bid  from  old  Silver 
Arrow,  and  then  I'm  going  to  Walpi  and  see  the 
214 


The  Young  Eagle  Dreams  of  a  Mate 

Mokis  dance.  They  say  they  carry  live  rattle 
snakes  in  their  mouths.  I  don't  believe  it:  I'm 
going  to  see.  Then  I  swing  'round  to  the 
Grand  Canon  of  the  Colorado.  They  say  that's 
the  sorriest  gash  in  the  ground  that  ever  hap 
pened.  Reynolds  gave  me  a  letter  to  old 
Hance;  he's  the  man  that  watches  to  see  that 
no  one  carries  the  hole  away.  Then  I'm  going 
to  take  a  turn  over  the  Mohave  desert  into 
Southern  California.  I'm  due  at  the  Yosemite 
Valley  about  a  year  from  next  fall.  I'll  come 
back  over  the  divide  by  way  of  Salt  Lake." 

He  was  on  his  feet,  and  his  eyes  were  glow 
ing.  He  seemed  to  have  forgotten  all  women  in 
the  sweep  of  his  imaginative  journey. 

"  Oh,  that  will  be  grand!  How  will  you 
doit?" 

"  On  old  Kintuck,  if  his  legs  don't  wear 
off." 

"  How  will  you  live?  " 

"  Forage  where  I  can.  Turn  to  and  help  on  a 
'  round-up,'  or  '  drive  '  where  I  can — shoot  and 
fish — oh,  I'll  make  it  if  it  takes  ten  years." 

"  Then  what?  "  Mary  asked,  with  a  curious 
intonation. 

"  Then  I'll  start  for  the  Northwest,"  he  re 
plied  after  a  little  hesitation — "  if  I  live.  Of 
course  the  chances  are  I'll  turn  up  my  toes  some 
where  on  the  trail.  A  man  is  liable  to  make  a 
215 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

miss-lick  somewhere,  but  that's  all  in  the  game. 
A  man  had  better  die  on  the  trail  than  in  a  dead 
furrow." 

Mary  looked  at  him  with  dreaming  eyes. 
His  strange  moods  filled  her  with  new  and  pow 
erful  emotions.  The  charm  of  the  wild  life  he 
depicted  appealed  to  her  as  well  as  to  him.  It 
was  all  a  fearsome  venture,  but  after  all  it  was 
glorious.  The  placid  round  of  her  own  life 
seemed  for  the  moment  intolerably  common 
place.  There  was  epic  largeness  in  the  circuit  of 
the  plainsman's  daring  plans.  The  wonders  of 
Nature  which  he  catalogued  loomed  large  in  the 
misty  knowledge  she  held  of  the  West.  She 
cried  out: 

"  Oh,  I  wish  I  could  see  those  wonderful 
scenes!  " 

He  turned  swiftly:  "You  can;  I'll  take 
you." 

She  shrank  back.  "  Oh,  no!  I  didn't  mean 
that — I  meant — some  time " 

His  face  darkened.  "  In  a  sleeping  car,  I 
reckon.  That  time'll  never  come." 

Then  a  silence  fell  on  them.  Harold  knew 
that  his  plans  could  not  be  carried  out  with  a 
woman  for  companion  —  and  he  had  sense 
enough  to  know  that  Mary's  words  were  born  of 
a  momentary  enthusiasm.  When  he  spoke  it 
was  with  characteristic  blunt  honesty, 
216 


The  Young  Eagle  Dreams  of  a  Mate 

"  No;  right  here  our  trails  fork,  Mary. 
Ever  since  I  saw  you  in  the  jail  the  first  time, 
you've  been  worth  more  to  me  than  anything 
else  in  the  world,  but  I  can  see  now  that  things 
never  can  go  right  with  you  and  me.  I  couldn't 
live  back  here,  and  you  couldn't  live  with  me  out 
there.  I'm  a  kind  of  an  outlaw,  anyway.  I 
made  up  my  mind  last  night  that  I'd  hit  the  trail 
alone.  I  won't  even  ask  Jack  to  go  with  me. 
There's  something  in  me  here  " — he  laid  his 
hand  on  his  breast — "  that  kind  o'  chimes  in 
with  the  wind  in  the  pifions  and  the  yap  of  the 
ky-ote.  The  rooster  and  the  church  bells  are 
too  tame  for  me.  That's  all  there  is  about  it. 
Maybe  when  I  get  old  and  feeble  in  the  knees 
I'll  feel  like  pitchin'  a  permanent  camp,  but  just 
now  I  don't;  I  want  to  be  on  the  move.  If  I 
had  a  nice  ranch,  and  you,  I  might  settle  down 
now,  but  then  you  couldn't  stand  even  a  ranch 
with  nearest  neighbors  ten  miles  away."  He 
turned  to  take  his  hat.  "  I  wanted  to  see  you — 
I  didn't  plan  for  anything  else — I've  seen  you 
and  so " 

"  Oh,  you're  not  going  now!  "  she  cried. 
"  You  haven't  told  me  your  story." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  have;  all  that  you'd  care  to  hear. 

It  don't  amount  to  much,  except  the  murder 

charges,   and  they  are  wrong.     It  wasn't  my 

fault.     They  crowded  me  too  hard,  and  I  had  to 

217 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

defend  myself.  What  is  a  man  to  do  when  it's 
kill  or  be  killed?  That's  all  over  and  past,  any 
way.  From  this  time  on  I  camp  high.  The 
roosters  and  church  bells  are  getting  too  thick 
on  the  Arickaree." 

He  crushed  his  hat  in  his  hand  as  he  turned 
to  her,  and  tears  were  in  her  eyes  as  she 
said: 

"  Please  don't  go;  I  expected  you  to  stay  to 
dinner  with  me." 

"  The  quicker  I  get  out  o'  here  the  better," 
he  replied  hoarsely,  and  she  saw  that  he  was 
trembling.  "What's  the  good  of  it?  I'm  out 
of  it." 

She  looked  up  at  him  in  silence,  her  mind 
filled  with  the  confused  struggle  between  her 
passion  and  her  reason.  He  allured  her,  this 
grave  and  stern  outlaw,  appealing  to  some  primi 
tive  longing  within  her. 

"  I  hate  to  see  you  go,"  she  said  slowly. 
"  But — I — suppose  it  is  best.  I  don't  like  to 
have  you  forget  me — I  shall  not  forget  you,  and 
I  will  sing  for  you  every  Sunday  afternoon,  and 
no  matter  where  you  are,  in  a  deep  canon,  or 
anywhere,  or  among  the  Indians,  you  just  stop 
and  listen  and  think  of  me,  and  maybe  you'll 
hear  my  voice." 

Tears  were  in  her  eyes  as  she  spoke,  and  he 
took  a  man's  advantage  of  her  emotion. 
218 


The  Young  Eagle  Dreams  of  a  Mate 

"  Perhaps  if  I  come  back — if  I  make  a  strike 
somewhere — if  you'd  say  so " 

She  shook  her  head  sadly  but  conclusively. 
"  No,  no,  I  can't  promise  anything." 

"  All  right — that  settles  it.     Good-by." 

And  she  had  nothing  better  to  say  than  just 
"  Good-by,  good-by." 


219 


CHAPTER   XIV 

THE   YOUNG   EAGLE    RETURNS   TO    HIS    EYRIE 

IT  was  good  to  face  the  West  again.  The 
wild  heart  of  the  youth  flung  off  all  doubt,  all 
regret.  Not  for  him  were  the  quiet  joys  of  vil 
lage  life.  No  lane  or  street  could  measure  his 
flight.  His  were  the  gleaming,  immeasurable 
walls  of  the  Sangre  de  Cristo  range,  his  the 
grassy  mountain  parks  and  the  silent  canons, 
and  the  peaks.  "  To  hell  with  the  East,  and  all 
it  owns,"  was  his  mood,  and  in  that  mood  he 
renounced  all  claim  to  Mary. 

He  sat  with  meditative  head  against  the 
windowpane,  listless  as  a  caged  and  sullen  eagle, 
but  his  soul  was  far  ahead,  swooping  above  the 
swells  that  cut  into  the  murky  sky.  His  eyes 
studied  every  rod  of  soil  as  he  retraced  his  way 
up  that  great  wind-swept  slope,  noting  every 
change  in  vegetation  or  settlement.  Five  years 
before  he  had  crept  like  a  lizard;  now  he  was 
rushing  straight  on  like  the  homing  eagle  who 
sees  his  home  crag  gleam  in  the  setting  sun. 

The  cactus  looked  up  at  him  with  spiney 
220 


The  Eagle  Returns  to  His  Eyrie 

face.  The  first  prairie  dog  sitting  erect  uttered 
a  greeting  to  which  he  smiled.  The  first  mirage 
filled  his  heart  with  a  rush  of  memories  of  wild 
rides,  and  the  grease  wood  recalled  a  hun 
dred  odorous  camp  fires.  He  was  getting 
home. 

The  people  at  the  stations  grew  more  un 
kempt,  untamed.  The  broad  hats  and  long 
mustaches  of  the  men  proclaimed  the  cow  coun 
try  at  last.  It  seemed  as  though  he  might  at 
any  moment  recognize  some  of  them.  At  a  cer 
tain  risk  to  himself  he  got  off  the  train  at  one 
or  two  points  to  talk  with  the  boys.  As  it  grew 
dark  he  took  advantage  of  every  wait  to  stretch 
his  legs  and  enjoy  the  fresh  air,  so  different  in  its 
clarity  and  crisp  dryness  from  the  leaf-burdened, 
mist-filled  atmosphere  of  Marmion.  He  lifted 
his  eyes  to  the  West  with  longing  too  great  for 
words,  eager  to  see  the  great  peaks  peer  above 
the  plain's  rim. 

The  night  was  far  spent  when  the  brakeman 
called  the  name  of  the  little  town  in  which  he 
had  left  his  outfit,  and  he  rose  up  stiff  and  sore 
from  his  cramped  position. 

Kintuck,  restless  from  long  confinement  in  a 
stall,  chuckled  with  joy  when  his  master  entered 
and  called  to  him.  It  was  still  dark,  but  that 
mattered  little  to  such  as  Mose.  He  flung  the 
saddle  on  and  cinched  it  tight.  He  rolled  his 

221 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

extra  clothes  in  his  blanket  and  tied  it  behind  his 
saddle,  and  then,  with  one  hand  on  his  pommel, 
he  said  to  the  hostler,  moved  by  a  bitter  reckless 
ness  of  mind: 

"  Well,  that  squares  us,  stranger.  If  any 
body  asks  you  which-a-way  '  Black  Mose '  rode 
jist  say  ye  didn't  notice."  A  leap,  a  rush  of 
hoofs,  and  the  darkness  had  eaten  both  horse 
and  man. 

It  was  a  long  ride,  and  as  he  rode  the  dawn 
came  over  the  plains,  swift,  silent,  majestic  with 
color.  His  blood  warmed  in  his  limbs  and  his 
head  lifted.  He  was  at  home  in  the  wild  once 
more,  all  ties  were  cut  between  him  and  the 
East.  Mary  was  not  for  him.  Maud  had 
grown  indifferent,  Jack  would  never  come  West, 
and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Burns  were  merely  cheery 
memories.  There  was  nothing  now  to  look 
backward  upon — nothing  to  check  his  career  as 
hunter  and  explorer.  All  that  he  had  done  up 
to  this  moment  was  but  careful  preparation  for 
great  journeys.  He  resolved  to  fling  himself 
into  unknown  trails — to  know  the  mountains  as 
no  other  man  knew  them. 

Again  he  rode  down  into  the  valley  of  the 
Arickaree,  and  as  the  boys  came  rolling  out  with 
cordial  shouts  of  welcome,  his  eyes  smarted  a 
little.  He  slipped  from  his  horse  and  shook 
hands  all  around,  and  ended  by  snatching  Pink 
222 


The  Eagle  Returns  to  His  Eyrie 


and  pressing  her  soft  cheek  against  his  lips 
something  he  had  never  done  before. 

They  bustled  to  get  his  breakfast,  while 
Reynolds  took  care  of  Kintuck.  Cora,  blush 
ing  prettily  as  she  set  the  table  for  him,  said: 
"  We're  mighty  glad  to  see  you  back,  Mose. 
Daddy  said  you'd  never  turn  up  again,  but  I 
held  out  you  would." 

"  Oh,  I  couldn't  stay  away  from  Kintuck  and 
little  Pink,"  he  replied. 

"  How'd  they  feed  ye  back  there?  "  inquired 
Mrs.  Reynolds. 

"  Oh,  fair  to  middlin' — but,  of  course,  they 
couldn't  cook  like  Ma  Reynolds." 

"Oh,  you  go  hark!"  cried  Mrs.  Reynolds, 
vastly  delighted.  "  They've  got  so  much  more 
to  do  with." 

It  was  good  to  sit  there  in  the  familiar 
kitchen  and  watch  these  simple,  hearty  women 
working  with  joy  to  feed  him.  His  heart  was 
very  tender,  and  he  answered  most  of  their  ques 
tions  with  unusual  spirit,  fending  off,  however, 
any  reference  to  old  sweethearts.  His  talk  was 
all  of  absorbing  interest  to  the  women.  They 
were  hungry  to  know  how  people  were  living 
and  dressing  back  there.  It  was  so  sweet  and 
fine  to  be  able  to  return  to  the  East — and  Mrs. 
Reynolds  hoped  to  do  so  before  she  died.  Cora 
drew  from  Mose  the  information  that  the  lawns 
223 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

were  beautifully  green  in  Marmion,  and  that  all 
kinds  of  flowers  were  in  blossom,  and  that  the 
birds  were  singing  in  the  maples.  Even  his 
meagre  descriptions  brought  back  to  the  girl 
the  green  freshness  of  June. 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  tired  of  these  bare  hills/'  she 
said  wistfully.  "  I  wish  I  could  go  East  again, 
back  to  our  old  home  in  Missouri." 

"  I  wish  now  I'd  stayed  here  and  sent  you," 
said  Mose. 

She  turned  in  surprise.     "  Why  so,  Mose?  " 

"  Because  I  had  so  little  fun  out  of  it,  while 
to  you  it  would  have  been  a  picnic." 

"  You're  mighty  good,  Mose,"  was  all  she 
said  in  reply,  but  her  eyes  lingered  upon  his  face, 
which  seemed  handsomer  than  ever  before,  for  it 
was  softened  by  his  love,  his  good  friends,  and 
the  cheerful  home. 

In  the  days  that  followed  Cora  took  on  new 
youth  and  beauty.  Her  head  lifted,  and  the 
swell  of  her  bosom  had  more  of  pride  and  grace 
than  ever  before  in  her  life.  She  no  longer 
shrank  from  the  gaze  of  men,  even  of  strangers, 
for  Mose  seemed  her  lover  and  protector.  Be 
fore  his  visit  to  the  East  she  had  doubted,  but 
now  she  let  her  starved  heart  feed  on  dreams  of 
him. 

Mose  had  little  time  to  give  to  her,  for  (at  his 
own  request)  Reynolds  was  making  the  highest 
224 


The  Eagle  Returns  to  His  Eyrie 

use  of  his  power.  "  I  want  to  earn  every  cent 
I  can  for  the  next  three  months,"  Mose  ex 
plained,  and  he  often  did  double  duty.  He  was 
very  expert  now  with  the  rope  and  could  throw 
and  tie  a  steer  with  the  best  of  the  men.  His 
muscles  seemed  never  to  tire  nor  his  nerves  to 
fail  him.  Rain,  all-night  rides,  sleeping  on  the 
ground  beneath  frosty  blankets,  nothing  seemed 
to  trouble  him.  He  was  never  cheery,  but  he 
was  never  sullen. 

One  day  in  November  he  rode  up  to  the 
home  ranch  leading  a  mule  with  a  pack  saddle 
fully  rigged. 

"  What  are  you  doing  with  that  mule? " 
asked  Reynolds  as  he  came  out  of  the  house,  fol 
lowed  by  Pink. 

"  I'm  going  to  pack  him." 

"  Pack  him?     What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  I'm  going  to  hit  '  the  long  trail/  " 

Cora  came  hurrying  forward.  "  Good  even 
ing,  Mose." 

"  Good  evening,  Cory.  How's  my  little 
Pink?  " 

"  What  did  you  say  about  hittin'  the  trail, 
Mose?  " 

"  Now  I  reckon  you'll  give  an  account  of 
yourself,"  said  Reynolds  with  a  wink. 

Mose  was  anxious  to  avoid  an  emotional  mo 
ment;  he  cautiously  replied:  "  Oh,  I'm  off  on  a 
225 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

little    hunting    excursion;     don't    get    excited 
about  it.     I'm  hungry  as  a  coyote;  can  I  eat?  " 

Cora  was  silenced  but  not  convinced,  and 
after  supper,  when  the  old  people  withdrew  from 
the  kitchen,  she  returned  to  the  subject  again. 

"  How  long  are  you  going  to  be  gone  this 
time?  " 

Mose  saw  the  storm  coming,  but  would  not 
lie  to  avoid  it. 

"  I  don't  know;  mebbe  all  winter." 

She  dropped  into  a  chair  facing  him,  white 
and  still.  When  she  spoke  her  voice  was  a  wail. 
"  O  Mose!  I  can't  live  here  all  winter  without 
you." 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  can;  you've  got  Pink  and  the 
old  folks." 

"  But  I  want  you!  I'll  die  here  without  you, 
Mose.  I  can't  endure  it." 

His  face  darkened.  "  You'd  better  forget 
me.  I'm  a  hoodoo,  Cory;  nobody  is  ever  in 
luck  when  I'm  around.  I  make  everybody  mis 
erable." 

"  I  was  never  really  happy  till  you  come,"  she 
softly  replied. 

"  There  are  a  lot  of  better  men  than  I  am 
jest  a-hone'in  to  marry  you,"  he  interrupted  her 
to  say. 

"  I  don't  want  them — I  don't  want  anybody 

but  you,  and  now  you  go  off  and  leave  me " 

226 


The  Eagle  Returns  to  His  Eyrie 

The  situation  was  beyond  any  subtlety  of  the 
man,  and  he  sat  in  silence  while  she  wept. 
When  he  could  command  himself  he  said: 

"  I'm  mighty  sorry,  Cory,  but  I  reckon  the 
best  way  out  of  it  is  to  just  take  myself  off  in  the 
hills  where  I  can't  interfere  with  any  one's  fun 
but  my  own.  Seems  to  me  I'm  fated  to  make 
trouble  all  along  the  line,  and  I'm  going  to  pull 
out  where  there's  nobody  but  wolves  and  griz 
zlies,  and  fight  it  out  with  them." 

She  was  filled  with  a  new  terror:  "  What  do 
you  mean?  I  don't  believe  you  intend  to  come 
back  at  all!  "  She  looked  at  him  piteously,  the 
tears  on  her  cheeks. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I'll  round  the  circle  some  time." 

She  flung  herself  down  on  the  chair  arm  and 
sobbed  unrestrainedly.  "  Don't  go — please!  " 

Mose  felt  a  sudden  touch  of  the  same  disgust 
which  came  upon  him  in  the  presence  of  his  fa 
ther's  enforcing  affection.  He  arose.  ff  Now, 
Cory,  see  here;  don't  you  waste  any  time  on  me. 
I'm  no  good  under  the  sun.  I  like  you  and  I 
like  Pinkie,  but  I  don't  want  you  to  cry  over 
me.  I  ain't  worth  it.  Now  that's  the  God's 
truth.  I'm  a  black  hoodoo,  and  you'll  never 
prosper  till  I  skip;  I'm  not  fit  to  marry  any 
woman." 

Singularly  enough,  this  gave  the  girl  almost 
instant  comfort,  and  she  lifted  her  head  and  dried 
227 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

her  eyes,  and  before  he  left  she  smiled  a  little, 
though  her  face  was  haggard  and  tear  stained. 

Mose  was  up  early  and  had  his  packs  ready 
and  Kintuck  saddled  when  Mrs.  Reynolds  called 
him  to  breakfast.  Cora's  pale  face  and  piteous 
eyes  moved  him  more  deeply  than  her  sobbing 
the  night  before,  but  there  was  a  certain  inexor 
able  fixedness  in  his  resolution,  and  he  did  not 
falter.  At  bottom  the  deciding  cause  was  Mary. 
She  had  passed  out  of  his  life,  but  no  other 
woman  could  take  her  place — therefore  he  was 
ready  to  cut  loose  from  all  things  feminine. 

"  Well,  Mose,  I'm  sorry  to  see  you  go,  I  cer 
tainly  am  so,"  said  Reynolds.  "  But,  you  ah 
you'  own  master.  All  I  can  say  is,  this  old  ranch 
is  open  to  you,  and  shall  be  so  long  as  we  stay 
hyer — though  I  am  mighty  uncertain  how  long 
we  shall  be  able  to  hold  out  agin  this  new  land- 
boom.  You  had  better  not  stay  away  too  long, 
or  you  may  miss  us.  I  reckon  we  ah  all  to  be 
driven  to  the  mountains  very  soon." 

"  I  may  be  back  in  the  spring.  Fm  likely  to 
need  money,  and  be  obliged  to  come  back  to  you 
for  a  job." 

On  this  tiny  crumb  of  comfort  Cora's  hungry 
heart  seized  greedily.  The  little  pink-cheeked 
one  helped  out  the  sad  meal.  She  knew  nothing 
of  the  long  trail  upon  which  her  hero  was  about 
to  set  foot,  and  took  possession  of  the  conversa- 
228 


The  Eagle  Returns  to  His  Eyrie 

tion  by  telling  of  a  little  antelope  which  one  of 
the  cowboys  had  brought  her. 

The  mule  was  packed  and  Mose  was  about  to 
say  good-by.  The  sun  was  still  low  in  the  east 
ern  sky.  Frost  was  on  the  grass,  but  the  air 
was  crisp  and  pleasant.  All  the  family  stood  be 
side  him  as  he  packed  his  outfit  on  the  mule  and 
threw  over  it  the  diamond  hitch.  As  he 
straightened  up  he  turned  to  the  waiting  ones 
and  said:  "  Do  you  see  that  gap  in  the  range?  " 

They  all  looked  where  he  pointed.  Down 
in  the  West,  but  lighted  into  unearthly  splendor 
by  the  morning  light,  arose  the  great  range  of 
snowy  peaks.  In  the  midst  of  this  impassable 
wall  a  purple  notch  could  be  seen. 

"  Ever  sence  I've  been  here,"  said  Mose,  with 
singular  emotion,  "  I've  looked  away  at  that 
range  and  I've  been  waiting  my  chance  to  see 
what  that  canon  is  like.  There  runs  my  trail — 
good-by." 

He  shook  hands  hastily  with  Cora,  heartily 
with  Mrs.  Reynolds,  and  kissed  Pink,  who  said: 
"  Bring  me  a  little  bear  or  a  fox." 

"  All  right,  honey,  you  shall  have  a  grizzly." 

He  swung  into  the  saddle.  "  Here  I  hit  the 
trail  for  yon  blue  notch  and  the  land  where  the 
sun  goes  down.  So  long." 

"  Take  care  o'  yourself,  boy." 

"  Come  back  soon,"  called  Cora,  and  covered 
229 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

her  face  with  her  shawl  in  a  world-old  gesture 
of  grief. 

In  the  days  that  followed  she  thought  of  him 
as  she  saw  him  last,  a  minute  fleck  on  the  plain. 
She  thought  of  him  when  the  rains  fell,  and 
prayed  that  he  might  not  fall  ill  of  fever  or  be 
whelmed  by  a  stream.  He  seemed  so  little  and 
weak  when  measured  against  that  mighty  and 
merciless  wall  of  snow.  Then  when  the  cold 
white  storms  came  and  the  plain  was  hid  in  the 
fury  of  wind  and  sleet,  she  shuddered  and 
thought  of  him  camped  beside  a  rock,  cold  and 
hungry.  She  thought  of  him  lying  with  a 
broken  leg,  helpless,  while  his  faithful  beasts 
pawed  the  ground  and  whinnied  their  distress. 
She  spoke  of  these  things  once  or  twice,  but  her 
father  merely  smiled. 

"  Mose  can  take  care  of  himself,  daughter, 
don't  you  worry." 

Months  passed  before  they  had  a  letter 
from  him,  and  when  it  came  it  bore  the  post 
mark  of  Durango. 

"  DEAR  FRIENDS:  I  should  a-written  be 
fore,  but  the  fact  is  I  hate  to  write  and  then  I've 
been  on  the  move  all  the  time.  I  struck 
through  the  gap  and  angled  down  to  Taos,  a 
Pueblo  Indian  town,  where  I  stayed  for  a  while 
— then  went  on  down  the  Valley  to  Sante  Fee. 
230 


The  Eagle  Returns  to  His  Eyrie 

Then  I  hunted  up  Delmar.  He  was  glad  to  see 
me,  but  he  looks  old.  He  had  a  hell  of  a  time 
after  I  left.  It  wasn't  the  way  the  papers  had  it 
— but  he  won  out  all  right.  He  sold  his  sheep 
and  quit.  He  said  he  got  tired  of  shooting  men. 
I  stayed  with  him — he's  got  a  nice  family — two 
girls — and  then  I  struck  out  into  the  Pueblo 
country.  These  little  brown  chaps  interest  me 
but  they're  a  different  breed  o'  cats  from  the 
Ogallalahs.  Everybody  talks  about  the  Snake 
Dance  at  Moki,  so  I'm  angling  out  that  way. 
I'm  going  to  do  a  little  cow  punchin'  for  a  man 
in  Apache  County  and  go  on  to  the  Dance.  I'm 
going  through  the  Navajoe  reservation.  I 
stand  in  with  them.  They've  heard  of  me  some 
way — through  the  Utes  I  reckon." 

The  accounts  of  the  Snake  Dance  contained 
mention  of  "  Black  Mose,"  who  kept  a  band  of 
toughs  from  interfering  with  the  dance.  His 
wonderful  marksmanship  was  spoken  of.  He 
did  not  write  till  he  reached  Flagstaff.  His  let 
ter  was  very  brief.  "  I'm  going  into  the  Grand 
Canon  for  a  few  days,  then  I  go  to  work  on  a 
ranch  south  of  here  for  the  winter.  In  the 
spring  I'm  going. over  the  range  into  California." 

When  they  heard  of  him  next  he  was  deputy 
marshal  of  a  mining  town,  and  the  Denver 
papers  contained  long  despatches  about  his 
231 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

work  in  clearing  the  town  of  desperadoes.  After 
that  they  lost  track  of  him  altogether — but  Cora 
never  gave  him  up.  "  He'll  round  the  big  circle 
one  o'  these  days — and  when  he  does  he'll  find  us 
all  waiting,  won't  he,  pet?  "  and  she  drew  little 
Pink  close  to  her  hungry  heart. 


232 


PART    III 
CHAPTER    XV 

THE    EAGLE   COMPLETES    HIS    CIRCLE 

ALL  days  were  Sunday  in  the  great  mining 
camp  of  Wagon  Wheel,  so  far  as  legal  enact 
ment  ran,  but  on  Saturday  night,  in  following 
ancient  habit,  the  men  came  out  of  their  pros 
pect  holes  on  the  high,  grassy  hills,  or  threw 
down  the  pick  in  their  "  overland  tunnels,"  or 
deep  shafts  and  rabbitlike  burrows,  and  came  to 
camp  to  buy  provisions,  to  get  their  mail,  and  to 
look  upon,  if  not  to  share,  the  vice  and  tumult  of 
the  town. 

The  streets  were  filled  from  curb  to  curb  with 
thousands  of  men  in  mud-stained  coats  and 
stout-laced  boots.  They  stood  in  the  gutters 
and  in  the  middle  of  the  street  to  talk  (in  sub 
dued  voices)  of  their  claims.  There  was  little 
noise.  The  slowly-moving  streams  of  shoppers 
or  amusement  seekers  gave  out  no  sudden 
shouting.  A  deep  murmur  filled  the  air,  but  no 
angry  curse  was  heard,  no  whooping.  In  a  land 
where  the  revolver  is  readier  than  the  fist  men 
233 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

are  wary  of  quarrel,  careful  of  abuse,  and  studi 
ously  regardful  of  others. 

There  were  those  who  sought  vice,  and  it 
was  easily  found.  The  saloons  were  packed 
with  thirsty  souls,  and  from  every  third  door 
issued  the  click  of  dice  and  whiz  of  whirling  balls 
in  games  of  chance. 

Every  hotel  barroom  swarmed  with  per 
suasive  salesmen  bearing  lumps  of  ore  with 
which  to  entice  unwary'  capital.  All  the 
talk  was  of  "pay-breaks,"  "leads,"  "float," 
"  whins,"  and  "  up-raises,"  while  in  the  midst 
of  it,  battling  to  save  souls,  the  zealous  Salva 
tion  Army  band  paraded  to  and  fro  with  frenzied 
beating  of  drums.  Around  and  through  all  this, 
listening  with  confused  ears,  gazing  with  wide, 
solemn  eyes,  were  hundreds  of  young  men  from 
the  middle  East,  farmers'  sons,  cowboys,  moun 
taineers,  and  miners.  To  them  it  was  an  awe 
some  city,  this  lurid  camp,  a  wonder  and  an 
allurement  to  dissipation. 

To  Mose,  fresh  from  the  long  trail,  it  was  irri 
tating  and  wearying.  He  stood  at  the  door  of 
a  saloon,  superbly  unconscious  of  his  physical 
beauty,  a  somber  dream  in  his  eyes,  a  statuesque 
quality  in  his  pose.  He  wore  the  wide  hat  of 
the  West,  but  his  neat,  dark  coat,  though  badly 
wrinkled,  was  well  cut,  and  his  crimson  tie  and 
dark  blue  shirt  were  handsomely  decorative. 
234 


The  Eagle  Completes  His  Circle 

His  face  was  older,  sterner,  and  sadder  than 
when  he  faced  Mary  three  years  before.  No 
trace  of  boyhood  was  in  his  manner.  Seven 
years  of  life  on  the  long  trail  and  among  the 
mountain  peaks  had  taught  him  silence,  self-re 
straint,  and  had  also  deepened  his  native  melan 
choly.  He  had  ridden  into  Wagon  Wheel  from 
the  West,  eager  to  see  the  great  mining  camp 
whose  fame  had  filled  the  world. 

As  he  stood  so,  with  the  light  of  the  setting 
sun  in  his  face,  the  melancholy  of  a  tiger  in  his 
eyes,  a  woman  in  an  open  barouche  rode  by. 
Her  roving  glance  lighted  upon  his  figure  and 
rested  there.  "  Wait !  "  she  called  to  her  driver, 
and  from  the  shadow  of  her  silken  parasol  she 
studied  the  young  man's  absorbed  and  motion 
less  figure.  He  on  his  part  perceived  only  a 
handsomely  dressed  woman  looking  out  over 
the  crowd.  The  carriage  interested  him  more 
than  the  woman.  It  was  a  magnificent  vehicle, 
the  finest  he  had  ever  seen,  and  he  wondered  how 
it  happened  to  be  there  on  the  mountain  top. 

A  small  man  with  a  large  head  stepped  from 
the  crowd  and  greeted  the  woman  with  a  mili 
tary  salute.  In  answer  to  a  question,  the  small 
man  turned  and  glanced  toward  Mose.  The 
woman  bowed  and  drove  on,  and  Mose  walked 
slowly  up  the  street,  lonely  and  irresolute.  At 
the  door  of  a  gambling  house  he  halted  and 
16  235 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

looked  in.  A  young  lad  and  an  old  man  were 
seated  together  at  a  roulette  table,  and  around 
them  a  ring  of  excited  and  amused  spectators 
stood.  Mose  entered  and  took  a  place  in  the 
circle.  The  boy  wore  a  look  of  excitement 
quite  painful  to  see,  and  he  placed  his  red  and 
white  chips  with  nervous,  blundering,  and  in 
effectual  gestures,  whereas  the  older  man  smiled 
benignly  over  his  glasses  and  placed  his  single 
dollar  chip  each  time  with  humorous  decision. 
Each  time  he  won.  "  This  is  for  a  new  hat,"  he 
said,  and  the  next  time,  "  This  is  for  a  box  at  the 
theater."  The  boy,  with  his  gains  in  the  circle 
of  his  left  arm,  was  desperately  absorbed.  No 
smile,  no  jest  was  possible  to  him. 

Mose  felt  a  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  turn 
ing,  found  himself  face  to  face  with  the  small 
man  who  had  touched  his  hat  to  the  woman  in 
the  carriage.  The  stranger's  countenance  was 
stern  in  its  outlines,  and  his  military  cut  of  beard 
added  to  his  grimness,  but  his  eyes  were  sur 
rounded  by  fine  lines  of  good  humour. 
"  Stranger,  I'd  like  a  word  with  you." 
Mose  followed  him  to  a  corner,  supposing 
him  to  be  a  man  with  mines  to  sell,  or  possibly  a 
confidence  man. 

"  Stranger,  where  you  from?  " 
"  From  the  Snake  country,"  replied  Mose. 
"  What's  your  little  game  here?  " 
236 


The  Eagle  Completes  His  Circle 

Mose  was  angered  at  his  tone.  "  None  of 
your  business." 

The  older  man  flushed,  and  the  laugh  went 
out  of  his  eyes.  "  I'll  make  it  my  business/'  he 
said  grimly.  "  I've  seen  you  somewhere  before, 
but  I  can't  place  you.  You  want  to  get  out  o' 
town  to-night;  you're  here  for  no  man's  good — 
you've  got  a  '  graft.' ' 

Mose  struck  him  with  the  flat  of  his  left  hand, 
and,  swift  as  a  rattlesnake's  stroke,  covered  him 
with  his  revolver.  "  Wait  right  where  you  are," 
he  said,  and  the  man  became  rigid.  "  I  came 
here  as  peaceable  as  any  man,"  Mose  went  on, 
"  but  I  don't  intend  to  be  ridden  out  of  town 
by  a  jackass  like  you." 

The  other  man  remained  calm.  "  If  you'll 
kindly  let  me  unbutton  my  coat,  I'll  show  you 
my  star;  I'm  the  city  marshal." 

"  Be  quiet,"  commanded  Mose;  "  put  up 
your  hands!  " 

Mose  was  aware  of  an  outcry,  then  a  silence, 
then  a  rush. 

From  beneath  his  coat,  quick  as  a  flash  of 
light  from  a  mirror,  he  drew  a  second  revolver. 
His  eyes  flashed  around  the  room.  For  a  mo 
ment  all  was  silent,  then  a  voice  called,  "  What's 
all  this,  Haney?  " 

"  Keep  them  quiet,"  said  Mose,  still  menac 
ing  the  officer. 

237 


The  Eagles  Heart 

"  Boys,  keep  back/'  pleaded  the  marshal. 

"  The  man  that  starts  this  ball  rolling  will  be 
sorry,"  said  Mose,  searching  the  crowd  with  sin 
ister  eyes.  "  If  you're  the  marshal,  order  these 
men  back  to  the  other  end  of  the  room." 

"  Boys,  get  back,"  commanded  the  marshal. 
With  shuffling  feet  the  crowd  retreated.  "  Shut 
the  door,  somebody,  and  keep  the  crowd  out." 

The  doors  were  shut,  and  the  room  became 
as  silent  as  a  tomb. 

"  Now,"  said  Mose,  "  is  it  war  or  peace?  " 

"  Peace,"  said  the  marshal. 

"  All  right."  Mose  dropped  the  point  of  his 
revolver. 

The  marshal  breathed  easier.  "  Stranger, 
you're  a  little  the  swiftest  man  I've  met  since 
harvest;  would  you  mind  telling  me  your 
name?  " 

"  Not  a  bit.  My  friends  call  me  Mose  Har 
ding." 

"'Black  Mose'!"  exclaimed  the  marshal, 
and  a  mutter  of  low  words  and  a  laugh  broke 
from  the  listening  crowd.  Haney  reached  out  his 
hand.  "  I  hope  you  won't  lay  it  up  against  me." 
Mose  shook  his  hand  and  the  marshal  went  on: 
"  To  tell  the  honest  truth,  I  thought  you  were 
one  of  Lightfoot's  gang.  I  couldn't  place  you. 
Of  course  I  see  now — I  have  your  picture  at  the 
office — the  drinks  are  on  me."  He  turned  witfy 
238 


The  Eagle  Completes  His  Circle 

a  smile  to  the  crowd:  "Come,  boys — irrigate 
and  get  done  with  it.  It's  a  horse  on  me, 
sure." 

Taking  the  mildest  liquor  at  the  bar,  Mose 
drank  to  further  friendly  relations,  while  the 
marshal  continued  to  apologize.  '  You  see, 
we've  been  overrun  with  '  rollers '  and  '  skin- 
game  '  men,  and  lately  three  expresses  have  been 
held  up  by  Lightfoot's  gang,  and  so  I've  been 
facing  up  every  suspicious  immigrant.  I've  had 
to  do  it — in  your  case  I  was  too  brash — I'll  ad 
mit  that — but  come,  let's  get  away  from  the 
mob.  Come  over  to  my  office,  I  want  to  talk 
with  you." 

Mose  was  glad  to  escape  the  curious  eyes  of 
the  throng.  While  his  life  was  in  the  balance, 
he  saw  and  heard  everything  hostile,  nothing 
more — now,  he  perceived  the  crowd  to  be  dis 
gustingly  inquisitive.  Their  winks,  and  grins, 
and  muttered  words  annoyed  him. 

"  Open  the  door — much  obliged,  Kelly," 
said  the  marshal  to  the  man  who  kept  the  door. 
Kelly  was  a  powerfully  built  man,  dressed  like  a 
miner,  in  broad  hat,  loose  gray  shirt,  and  laced 
boots,  and  Mose  admiringly  studied  him. 

"This  is  not  '  Rocky  Mountain  Kelly'?" 
he  asked. 

Kelly    smiled.      "The    same;     '  Old    Man 
Kelly  '  they  call  me  now." 
239 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

Mose  put  out  his  hand.  "  I'm  glad  to  know 
ye.  I've  heard  Tom  Gavin  speak  of  you.'' 

Kelly  shook  heartily.  "  Oh!  do  ye  know 
Tom?  He's  a  rare  lump  of  a  b'y,  is  Tom.  We've 
seen  great  times  together  on  the  plains  and  on 
the  hills.  It's  all  gone  now.  It's  tame  as  a 
garden  since  the  buffalo  went;  they've  made  it 
another  world,  b'y." 

"  Come  along,  Kelly,  and  we'll  have  it  out 
at  my  office." 

As  the  three  went  out  into  the  street  they 
confronted  a  close-packed  throng.  The  word 
had  passed  along  that  the  marshal  was  being 
"  done,"  and  now,  singularly  silent,  the  miners 
waited  the  opening  of  the  door. 

The  marshal  called  from  the  doorstep:  "  It's 
all  right.  Don't  block  the  street.  Break 
away,  boys,  break  away."  The  crowd  opened 
to  let  them  pass,  fixing  curious  eyes  upon 
Mose. 

As  the  three  men  crossed  the  street  the 
woman  in  the  carriage  came  driving  slowly 
along.  Kelly  and  the  marshal  saluted  gallantly, 
but  Mose  did  not  even  bow. 

She  leaned  from  her  carriage  and  called: 

"  What's  that  I  hear,  marshal,  about  your 
getting  shot?  " 

"  All  a  mistake,  Madam.  I  thought  I  recog 
nized  this  young  man  and  was  politely  ordering 
240 


The  Eagle  Completes  His  Circle 

him  out  of  town  when  he  pulled  his  gun  and 
nailed  me  to  the  cross." 

The  woman  turned  a  smiling  face  toward 
Mose.  "  He  must  be  a  wonder.  Introduce  me, 
please." 

"  Certain  sure!  This  is  Mrs.  Raimon,  Mose; 
'  Princess  Raimon,'  this  is  my  friend,  Mose 
Harding,  otherwise  known  as  '  Black  Mose.' ' 

"Black  Mose!"  she  cried;  "are  you  that 
terrible  man?  " 

She  reached  out  her  little  gloved  hand,  and 
as  Mose  took  it  her  eyes  searched  his  face.  "  I 
think  we  are  going  to  be  friends."  Her  voice 
was  affectedly  musical  as  she  added:  "  Come  and 
see  me,  won't  you?  " 

She  did  not  wait  for  his  reply,  but  drove  on 
with  a  sudden  assumption  of  reserve  which  be 
came  her  very  well. 

The  three  men  walked  on  in  silence.  At 
last,  with  a  curious  look  at  Kelly,  the  marshal 
said,  "  Young  man,  you're  in  luck.  Anything 
you  want  in  town  is  yours  now.  How  about  it, 
Kelly?  " 

"  That's  the  thrue  word  of  it." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  asked  Mose. 

"  Just  this — what  the  princess  asks  for  she 
generally  gets.     She's  taken  a  fancy  to  you,  and 
if  you're  keen  as  I  think  you  are,  you'll  call  on 
her  without  much  delay." 
241 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

"  Who  is  she?  How  does  she  happen  to  be 
here?  " 

"  She  came  out  here  with  her  husband — and 
stays  for  love  of  men  and  mines,  I  reckon.  Any 
how,  she  always  has  a  man  hangin'  on,  and  has 
managed  to  secure  some  of  the  best  mines  in  the 
camp.  She  works  'em,  too.  She's  a  pretty 
high  roller,  as  they  call  'em  back  in  the  States, 
but  she  helps  the  poor,  and  pays  her  debts  like 
a  man,  and  it's  no  call  o'  mine  to  pass  judgment 
on  her." 

The  marshal's  office  was  an  old  log  shanty, 
one  of  the  first  to  be  built  on  the  trail,  and  pass 
ing  through  the  big  front  room  in  which  two  or 
three  men  were  lounging,  the  marshal  led  his 
guests  to  his  inner  office  and  sleeping  room.  A 
fire  was  blazing  in  a  big  stone  fireplace.  Skins 
and  dingy  blankets  were  scattered  about,  and 
on  the  mantle  stood  a  bottle  and  some  dirty 
glasses. 

"  Sit  down,  gentlemen,"  said  the  marshal, 
"  and  have  some  liquor." 

After  they  were  served  and  cigars  lighted, 
the  marshal  began: 

"  Mose,  I  want  you  to  serve  as  my  deputy." 

Mose  was  taken  by  surprise  and  did  not 
speak  for  a  few  moments.  The  marshal  went  on : 

"  I  don't  know  that  you're  after  a  job,  but 
I'm  sure  I  need  you.  There's  no  use  hemming 
242 


The  Eagle  Completes  His  Circle 

and  hawing — I've  made  a  cussed  fool  of  myself 
this  evening  and  the  boys  are  just  about  going 
to  drink  up  my  salary  for  me  this  coming  week. 
I  can't  afford  not  to  have  you  my  deputy  because 
you  unlimbered  your  gun  a  grain  of  a  second  be 
fore  me — beat  me  at  my  own  trick.  I  need  you 
— now  what  do  you  say?  " 

Mose  took  time  to  reply.  "  I  sure  need  a  job 
for  the  winter,"  he  admitted,  "  but  I  don't  be 
lieve  I  want  to  do  this." 

The  marshal  urged  him  to  accept.  "  I'll  call 
in  the  newspaper  men  and  let  them  tell  the  whole 
story  of  your  life,  and  of  our  little  jamboree  to 
day — they'll  fix  up  a  yarn  that'll  paralyze  the 
hold-up  gang.  Together  we'll  swoop  down  on 
the  town.  I've  been  planning  a  clean-out  for 
some  weeks,  and  I  need  you  to  help  me  turn  'em 
loose." 

Mose  arose.  "I  guess  not;  I'm  trying  to 
keep  clear  of  gun-play  these  days.  I've  never 
hunted  that  kind  of  thing,  and  I  won't  start  in 
on  a  game  that's  sure  to  give  me  trouble." 

The  marshal  argued.  "  Set  down;  listen; 
that's  the  point  exactly.  The  minute  the  boys 
know  who  you  are  we  won't  need  to  shoot. 
That's  the  reason  I  want  you — the  reporters  will 
prepare  the  way.  Wherever  we  go  the  '  bad 
men  '  will  scatter." 

But  Mose  was  inexorable.  "  No,  I  can't  do 
243 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

it.  I  took  just  such  a  job  once — I  don't  want 
another." 

Haney  was  deeply  disappointed,  but  shook 
hands  pleasantly.  "  Well,  good-night;  drop  in 
any  time." 

Mose  went  out  into  the  street  once  more. 
He  was  hungry,  and  so  turned  in  at  the  principal 
hotel  in  the  city  for  a  "  good  square  meal."  An 
Italian  playing  the  violin  and  his  boy  accom 
panying  him  on  the  harp,  made  up  a  little  orches 
tra.  Some  palms  in  pots,  six  mirrors  set  be 
tween  the  windows,  together  with  tall,  very  new, 
oak  chairs  gave  the  dining  room  a  magnificence 
which  abashed  the  bold  heart  of  the  trailer  for  a 
moment. 

However,  his  was  not  a  nature  to  show  ti 
midity,  and  taking  a  seat  he  calmly  spread  his 
damp  napkin  on  his  knee  and  gave  his  order  to 
the  colored  waiter  (the  Palace  Hotel  had  the 
only  two  colored  waiters  in  Wagon  Wheel)  with 
such  grace  as  he  could  command  after  long  years 
upon  the  trail. 

As  he  lifted  his  eyes  he  became  aware  of 
"  the  princess  "  seated  at  another  table  and  fac 
ing  him.  She  seemed  older  than  when  he  saw 
her  in  the  carriage.  Her  face  was  high-colored, 
and  her  hair  a  red-brown.  Her  eyes  were  half 
closed,  and  her  mouth  drooped  at  the  corners. 
Her  chin,  supported  on  her  left  hand,  glittering 
244 


The  Eagle  Completes  His  Circle 

with  jewels,  was  pushed  forward  aggressively, 
and  she  listened  with  indifference  to  the  talk  of 
her  companion,  a  dark,  smooth-featured  man, 
with  a  bitter  and  menacing  smile. 

Mose  was  oppressed  by  her  glance.  She 
seemed  to  be  looking  at  him  from  the  shadow  as 
a  tigress  might  glare  from  her  den,  and  he  ate 
awkwardly,  and  his  food  tasted  dry  and  bitter. 
Ultimately  he  became  angry.  Why  should  this 
woman,  or  any  woman,  stare  at  him  like  that? 
He  would  have  understood  her  better  had  she 
smiled  at  him — he  was  not  without  experience  of 
that  sort,  but  this  unwavering  glance  puzzled 
and  annoyed  him. 

Putting  her  companion  aside  with  a  single 
gesture,  the  princess  arose  and  came  over  to 
Mose's  table  and  reached  her  hand  to  him.  She 
smiled  radiantly  of  a  sudden,  and  said,  "  How 
do  you  do,  Mr.  Harding;  I  didn't  recognize  you 
at  first." 

Mose  took  her  hand  but  did  not  invite  her 
to  join  him.  However,  she  needed  no  invita 
tion,  and  taking  a  seat  opposite,  leaned  her 
elbows  on  the  table  and  looked  at  him  with  eyes 
more  inscrutable  than  ever — despite  their  near 
ness.  They  were  a  mottled  yellow  and  brown, 
he  noticed,  unusual  and  interesting  eyes,  but  by 
contrast  with  the  clear  deeps  of  Mary's  eyes 
they  seemed  like  those  of  some  beautiful  wild 
245 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

beast.  He  could  not  penetrate  a  thousandth 
part  of  a  hair  line  beyond  the  exterior  shine  of 
her  glance.  The  woman's  soul  was  in  the  un 
fathomable  shadow  beneath. 

"  I  know  all  about  you/'  she  said.  "  I  read 
a  long  article  about  you  in  the  papers  some 
months  ago.  You  stood  off  a  lot  of  bogus  game 
wardens  who  were  going  to  butcher  some  Sho- 
shonees.  I  liked  that.  The  article  said  you 
killed  a  couple  of  them.  I  hope  you  did." 

Mose  was  very  short.  "  I  don't  think  any 
of  them  died  at  my  hands,  but  they  deserved  it, 
sure  enough." 

She  smiled  again.  "  After  seeing  you  on  the 
street,  I  went  home  and  looked  up  that  slip — I 
saved  it,  you  see.  I've  wanted  to  see  you  for  a 
long  time.  You've  had  a  wonderful  life  for  one 
so  young.  This  article  raked  up  a  whole  lot  of 
stuff  about  you — said  you  were  the  son  of  a 
preacher — is  that  so?  " 

"  Yes,  that  part  of  it  was  true." 

"  Same  old  story,  isn't  it?  I'm  the  daughter 
of  a  college  professor — sectarian  college  at  that." 
She  smiled  a  moment,  then  became  as  suddenly 
grave.  "  I  like  men.  I  like  men  who  face  dan 
ger  and  think  nothing  of  it.  The  article  said 
you  came  West  when  a  mere  boy  and  got  mixed 
up  in  some  funny  business  on  the  plains  and  had 
to  take  a  sneak  to  the  mountains.  What  have 
246 


The  Eagle  Completes  His  Circle 

you  been  doing  since?  I  wish  you'd  tell  me  the 
whole  story.  Come  to  my  house;  it's  just 
around  the  corner." 

As  she  talked,  her  voice  became  more  subtly 
pleasing,  and  the  lines  of  her  mouth  took  on  a 
touch  of  girlish  grace. 

"I  haven't  time  to  do  that,"  Mose  said, 
"  and  besides,  my  story  don't  amount  to  much. 
You  don't  want  to  believe  all  they  say  of  me. 
I've  just  knocked  around  a  little  like  a  thousand 
other  fellows,  that's  all.  I  pull  out  to-night. 
I'm  looking  up  an  old  friend  down  here  on  a 
ranch." 

She  saw  her  mistake.  "  All  right,"  she  said, 
and  smiled  radiantly.  "  But  come  some  other 
time,  won't  you? "  She  was  so  winning,  so 
frank  and  kindly  that  Mose  experienced  a  sud 
den  revulsion  of  feeling.  A  powerful  charm 
came  from  her  superb  physique,  her  radiant 
color,  and  from  her  beautiful,  flexile  lips  and 
sound  white  teeth.  He  hesitated,  and  she 
pressed  her  advantage. 

"  You  needn't  be  afraid  of  me.  The  boys 
often  drop  in  to  see  me  of  an  evening.  If  I  can 
be  of  any  use  to  you,  let  me  know7.  I'll  tell  you 
what  you  do.  You  take  supper  with  me  here 
to-morrow  night.  What  say?  " 

Mose  looked  across  at  the  scowling  face  of 
the  woman's  companion  and  said  hesitatingly: 
247 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

"Well,  I'll  see.  If  I  have  time— maybe  I 
will." 

She  smiled  again  and  impulsively  reached  her 
hand  to  him,  and  as  he  took  it  he  was  nearly  won 
by  her  friendliness.  This  she  did  not  know,  and 
he  was  able  to  go  out  into  the  street  alone.  He 
could  not  but  observe  that  the  attendants 
treated  him  with  added  respect  by  reason  of  his 
acquaintance  with  the  wealthiest  and  most  pow 
erful  woman  in  the  camp.  She  had  made  his 
loneliness  very  keen  and  hard  to  bear. 

As  he  walked  down  the  street  he  thought  of 
Mary — she  seemed  to  be  a  sister  to  the  distant, 
calm  and  glorious  moon  just  launching  into  the 
sky  above  the  serrate  wall  of  snowy  peaks  to  the 
East.  There  was  a  powerful  appeal  in  the  vivid 
and  changeful  woman  he  had  just  met,  for  her 
like  had  never  touched  his  life  before. 

As  he  climbed  back  up  the  hill  toward  the 
corral  where  he  had  left  his  horse,  he  was  filled 
with  a  wordless  disgust  of  the  town  and  its  peo 
ple.  The  night  was  still  and  cool,  almost  frosty. 
The  air  so  clear  and  so  rare  filled  his  lungs  with 
wholesomely  sweet  and  reanimating  breath. 
His  head  cleared,  and  his  heart  grew  regular  in 
its  beating.  The  moon  was  sailing  in  mid-ocean, 
between  the  Great  Divide  and  the  Christo 
Range,  cold  and  sharp  of  outline  as  a  boat  of  sil 
ver.  Lizard  Head  to  the  south  loomed  up  ethe- 
248 


The  Eagle  Completes  His  Circle 

real  as  a  cloud,  so  high  it  seemed  to  crash  among 
the  stars.  The  youth  drew  a  deep  breath  and 
said:  "  To  hell  with  the  town." 

Kintuck  whinnied  caressingly  as  he  heard  his 
master's  voice.  After  putting  some  grain  be 
fore  the  horse,  Mose  rolled  himself  in  his  blanket 
and  went  to  sleep  with  only  a  passing  thought  of 
the  princess,  her  luxurious  home,  and  her  radi 
ant  and  inscrutable  personality. 


249 


CHAPTER    XVI 

AGAIN    ON    THE    ROUND-UP 

IT  was  good  to  hear  again  the  bawling  of  the 
bulls  and  the  shouts  of  the  cowboys,  and  to  see 
the  swirling  herd  and  the  flying,  guarding, 
checking  horsemen.  Mose,  wearied,  weather- 
beaten,  and  somber-visaged,  looked  down  upon 
the  scene  with  musing  eyes.  The  action  was 
quite  like  that  on  the  Arickaree;  the  setting 
alone  was  different.  Here  the  valley  was  a  wide, 
deliciously  green  bowl,  with  knobby  hills,  pine- 
covered  and  abrupt,  rising  on  all  sides.  Farther 
back  great  snow-covered  peaks  rose  to  enor 
mous  heights.  In  the  center  of  this  superb 
basin  the  camps  were  pitched,  and  the  roping 
and  branding  went  on  like  the  action  of  a  pro 
digious  drama.  The  sun,  setting  in  orange-col 
ored  clouds,  brought  out  the  velvet  green  of  the 
sward  with  marvelous  radiance.  The  tents 
gleamed  in  the  midst  of  the  valley  like  flakes  of 
pearl. 

The  heart  of  the  wanderer  warmed  within 
him,  and  with  a  feeling  that  he  was  almost  home 
250 


Again  on  the  Round-Up 

he  called  to  his  pack  horse  "  Hy-ak-boy!  "  and 
started  down  the  hill.  As  he  drew  near  the  herd 
he  noted  the  great  changes  which  had  come  over 
the  cattle.  They  were  now  nearly  all  grades  of 
Hereford  or  Holstein.  They  were  larger  of 
body,  heavier  of  limb,  and  less  active  than  the 
range  cattle  of  the  plains,  but  were  sufficiently 
speedy  to  make  handling  them  a  fine  art. 

As  he  drew  near  the  camp  a  musical  shout 
arose,  and  Reynolds  spurred  his  horse  out  to 
meet  him.  "  It's  Mose!  "  he  shouted.  "  Boy, 
I'm  glad  to  see  ye,  I  certainly  am.  Shake  hearty. 
Where  ye  from?  " 

"  The  Wind  River." 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  up  there?  " 

"  Oh,  knocking  around  with  some  Sho- 
shones  on  a  hunting  trip." 

"  Well,  by  mighty,  I  certainly  am  glad  to  see 
ye.  You  look  thin  as  a  spring  steer." 

"  My  looks  don't  deceive  me  then.  My 
two  sides  are  rubbin'  together.  How  are  the 
folks?  " 

"  They  ah  very  well,  thank  you.  Cora  and 
Pink  will  certainly  go  plumb  crazy  when  they 
see  you  a-comin'." 

"  Where's  your  house?  " 

"  Just  over  that  divide — but  slip  your  packs 
off.  Old  Kintuck  looks  well;  I  knew  him  when 
you  topped  the  hill." 

*7  251 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

"  Yes,  he's  still  with  me,  and  considerable  of 
a  horse  yet." 

They  drew  up  to  the  door  of  one  of  the  main 
tents  and  slipped  the  saddles  from  the  weary 
horses. 

"  Do  ye  hobble?  " 

"  No — they  stay  with  me,"  said  Mose,  slap 
ping  Kintuck.  "  Go  on,  boy,  here's  grass  worth 
while  for  ye." 

"By  mighty,  Mose!  "  said  Reynolds,  looking 
at  the  trailer  tenderly,  "  it  certainly  is  good  for 
sore  eyes  to  see  ye.  I  didn't  know  but  you'd 
got  mixed  up  an'  done  for  in  some  of  them 
squabbles.  I  heard  the  State  authorities  had 
gone  out  to  round  up  that  band  of  reds  you  was 
with." 

"  We  did  have  one  brush  with  the  sheriff  and 
some  game  wardens,  but  I  stood  him  off  while 
my  friends  made  tracks  for  the  reservation.  The 
sheriff  was  for  fight,  but  I  argued  him  out  of  it. 
It  looked  like  hot  weather  for  a  while." 

While  they  were  talking  the  cook  set  up  a 
couple  of  precarious  benches  and  laid  a  wide 
board  thereon.  Mose  remarked  it. 

"A  table!  Seems  to  me  that's  a  little  hifa- 
lutin'." 

"  So  it  is,  but  times  are  changing." 

"  I  reckon  the  range  on  the  Arickaree  is 
about  wiped  out." 

252 


Again  on  the  Round-Up 

"  Yes.  We  had  a  couple  of  years  with  rain 
a-plenty,  and  that  brought  a  boom  in  settlement; 
everything  along  the  river  was  homesteaded,  and 
so  I  retreated — the  range  was  overstocked  any 
how.  This  time  I  climbed  high.  I  reckon  I'm 
all  right  now  while  I  live.  They  can't  raise  co'n 
in  this  high  country,  and  not  much  of  anything 
but  grass.  They  won't  bother  us  no  mo'.  It's 
a  good  cattle  country,  but  a  mighty  tough  range 
to  ride,  as  you'll  find.  I  thought  I  knew  what 
rough  riding  was,  but  when  it  comes  to  racin' 
over  these  granite  knobs,  I'm  jest  a  little  too  old. 
I'm  getting  heavy,  too,  you  notice." 

"  Grub-pile!  All  down  for  grub!  "  yelled  the 
cook,  and  the  boys  came  trooping  in.  They 
were  all  strangers,  but  not  strange  to  Mose. 
They  conformed  to  types  he  already  knew. 
Some  were  young  lads,  and  the  word  having 
passed  around  that  "  Black  Mose  "  was  in  camp, 
they  approached  with  awe.  The  man  whose 
sinister  fame  had  spread  throughout  three  States 
was  a  very  great  personage  to  them. 

"  Did  you  come  by  way  of  Wagon  Wheel?  " 
inquired  a  tall  youth  whom  the  others  called 
"  Brindle  Bill." 

"  Yes;  camped  there  one  night." 

"  Ain't  it  a  caution  to  yaller  snakes?  Must 
be  nigh  onto  fifteen  thousand  people  there  now. 
The  hills  is  plumb  measly  with  prospect  holes, 
253 


The  Eagles  Heart 

and  you  can't  look  at  a  rock  f'r  less'n  a  thousand 
dollars.  It  shore  is  the  craziest  town  that  ever 
went  anywhere." 

"  Bill's  got  the  fever/'  said  another.  "  He 
just  about  wears  hisself  out  a-pickin'  up  and 
a-totein'  'round  likely  lookin'  rocks.  Seems  like 
he  was  lookin'  fer  gold  mines  'stid  o'  cattle  most 
of  the  time." 

"  You're  just  in  time  for  the  turnament, 
Mose." 

"  For  the  how-many?  " 

"  The  turnament  and  bullfight.  Joe  Gras- 
sie  has  been  gettin'  up  a  bullfight  and  a  kind  of 
a  show.  He  'lows  to  bring  up  some  regular 
fighters  from  Mexico  and  have  a  real,  sure- 
'nough  bullfight.  Then  he's  offered  a  prize  of 
fifty  dollars  for  the  best  roper,  and  fifty  dollars 
for  the  best  shooter." 

"  I  didn't  happen  to  hear  of  it,  but  I'm  due 
to  take  that  fifty;  I  need  it,"  said  Mose. 

"  He  'lows  to  have  some  races — pony  races 
and  broncho  busting." 

"  When  does  it  come  off?  "  asked  Mose  with 
interest. 

"On  the  fourth." 

"  I'll  be  there." 

After  supper  was  over  Reynolds  said:  "Are 
you  too  tired  to  ride  over  to  the  ranch?  " 

"  Oh,  no!  I'm  all  right  now." 
254 


Again  on  the  Round-Up 

"  Well,  I'll  just  naturally  throw  the  saddles 
on  a  couple  of  bronchos  and  we'll  go  see  the 
folks." 

Mose  felt  a  warm  glow  around  his  heart  as  he 
trotted  away  beside  Reynolds  across  the  smooth 
sod.  His  affection  for  the  Reynolds  family  was 
scarcely  second  to  his  boyish  love  for  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Burns. 

It  was  dark  before  they  came  in  sight  of  the 
light  in  the  narrow  valley  of  the  Mink.  "  There's 
the  camp,"  said  Reynolds.  "  No,  I  didn't  build 
it;  it's  an  old  ranch;  in  fact,  I  bought  the  whole 
outfit." 

Mrs.  Reynolds  had  not  changed  at  all  in  the 
three  years,  but  Cora  had  grown  handsomer  and 
seemed  much  less  timid,  though  she  blushed 
vividly  as  Mose  shook  her  hand. 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  you  back,"  she  said. 

Moved  by  an  unusual  emotion,  Mose  replied: 
"  You  haven't  pined  away  any." 

"  Pined!  "  exclaimed  her  mother.  "  Well,  I 
should  say  not.  You  should  see  her  when  Jim 
Haynes " 

"  Mother! "  called  the  girl  sharply,  and 
Pink,  now  a  beautiful  child  of  eight,  came  op 
portunely  into  the  room  and  drew  the  conver 
sation  to  herself. 

As  Mose,  with  Pink  at  his  knee,  sat  watching 
the  two  women  moving  about  the  table,  a  half- 
255 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

formed  resolution  arose  in  his  brain.  He  was 
weary  of  wandering,  weary  of  loneliness.  This 
comfortable,  homely  room,  this  tender  little 
form  in  his  arms,  made,  an  appeal  to  him  which 
was  as  powerful  as  it  was  unexpected.  He  had 
lived  so  long  in  his  blanket,  with  only  Kintuck 
for  company,  that  at  this  moment  it  seemed  as 
if  these  were  the  best  things  to  do — to  stay  with 
Reynolds,  to  make  Cora  happy,  and  to  rest.  He 
had  seen  all  phases  of  wild  life  and  had  carried 
out  his  plans  to  see  the  wonders  of  America.  He 
had  crossed  the  Painted  Desert  and  camped  be 
side  the  Colorado  in  the  greatest  canon  in  the 
world.  He  had  watched  the  Mokis  while  they 
danced  with  live  rattlesnakes  held  between  their 
lips.  He  had  explored  the  cliff-dwellings  of  the 
Navajo  country  and  had  looked  upon  the  sea  of 
peaks  which  tumbles  away  in  measureless  maj 
esty  from  Uncompahgre's  eagle-crested  dome. 
He  had  peered  into  the  boiling  springs  of  the 
Yellowstone,  and  had  lifted  his  eyes  to  the  white 
Tetons  whose  feet  are  set  in  a  mystic  lake, 
around  which  the  loons  laugh  all  the  summer 
long.  He  knew  the  chiefs  of  a  dozen  tribes  and 
was  a  welcome  guest  among  them.  In  his  own 
mind  he  was  no  longer  young — his  youth  was 
passing,  perhaps  the  time  had  come  to  settle 
down. 

Cora  turned  suddenly  from  the  table,  where 
256 


Again  on  the  Round-Up 

she  stood  arranging  the  plates  and  knives  and 
forks  with  a  pleasant  bustle,  and  said: 

"  O  Mose!  we've  got  two  or  three  letters 
for  you.  We've  had  'em  ever  so  long — I  don't 
suppose  they  will  be  of  much  good  to  you  now. 
I'll  get  them  for  you." 

"  They  look  old,"  he  said  as  he  took  them 
from  her  hand.  "  They  look  as  if  they'd  been 
through  the  war."  The  first  was  from  his  father, 
the  second  from  Jack,  and  the  third  in  a  woman's 
hand — could  only  be  Mary's.  He  stared  at  it — 
almost  afraid  to  open  it  in  the  presence  of  the 
family.  He  read  the  one  from  his  father  first, 
because  he  conceived  it  less  important,  and  be 
cause  he  feared  the  other. 

"My  DEAR  SON:  I  am  writing  to  you 
through  Jack,  although  he  does  not  feel  sure  we 
can  reach  you.  I  want  to  let  you  know  of  the 
death  of  Mrs.  Excell.  She  died  very  suddenly 
of  acute  pneumonia.  She  was  always  careless  of 
her  footwear  and  went  out  in  the  snow  to  hang 
out  some  linen  without  her  rubber  shoes.  We 
did  everything  that  could  be  done  but  she  only 
lived  six  days  after  the  exposure.  Life  is  very 
hard  for  me  now.  I  write  also  to  say  that  as  I 
am  now  alone  and  in  bad  health  I  shall  accept  a 
call  to  Sweetwater  Springs,  Colorado,  for  two 
reasons.  One  is  that  my  health  may  be  re- 
257 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

gained,  and  for  the  reason,  also,  my  dear  son, 
that  I  may  be  nearer  you.  If  this  reaches  you 
and  you  can  come  to  see  me  I  hope  you  will  do 
so.  I  am  lonely  now  and  I  long  for  you.  The 
parish  is  small  and  the  pay  meager,  but  that  will 
not  matter  if  I  can  see  you  occasionally.  Maud 
and  her  little  family  are  well.  I  go  to  my  new 
church  in  April. 

"  Your  father, 

"  SAMUEL  EXCELL." 

For  a  moment  this  letter  made  Mose  feel  his 
father's  loneliness,  and  had  he  not  held  in  his 
hand  two  other  and  more  important  letters  he 
would  have  replied  with  greater  tenderness  than 
ever  before  in  his  life. 

"Well,  Mose,  set  up,"  said  Mrs.  Reynolds; 
"  letters'll  keep." 

He  was  distracted  all  through  the  meal  in 
spite  of  the  incessant  questioning  of  his  good 
friends.  They  were  determined  to  uncover 
every  act  of  his  long  years  of  wandering. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I've  been  hungry  and  cold, 
but  I  always  looked  after  my  horse,  and  so,  when 
I  struck  a  cow  country  I  could  whirl  in  and  earn 
some  money.  It  don't  take  much  to  keep  me 
when  I'm  on  the  trail." 

"  What's  the  good  of  seein'  so  much? " 
asked  Mrs.  Reynolds. 

258 


Again  on  the  Round-Up 

He  smiled  a  slow,  musing  smile.  "  Oh,  I 
don't  know.  The  more  you  see  the  more  you 
want  to  see.  Just  now  I  feel  like  taking  a  little 
rest." 

Cora  smiled  at  him.  "  I  wish  you  would. 
You  look  like  a  starved  cat — you  ought'o  let  us 
feed  you  up  for  a  while." 

"  Spoil  me  for  the  trail/'  he  said,  but  his 
eyes  conveyed  a  message  of  gratitude  for  her 
sympathy,  and  she  flushed  again. 

After  supper  Mrs.  Reynolds  said:  "  Now  if 
you  want  to  read  your  letters  by  yourself,  you 
can."  She  opened  a  door  and  he  looked  in. 

"A  bed!  I  haven't  slept  in  a  bed  for  two 
years." 

"  Well,  it  won't  kill  ye,  not  for  one  night,  I 
reckon,"  she  said. 

He  looked  around  the  little  room,  at  the 
dainty  lace  curtains  tied  with  little  bows  of  rib 
bon,  at  the  pictures  and  lambrequins,  and  it 
filled  his  heart  with  a  sudden  stress  of  longing. 
It  made  him  remember  the  pretty  parlor  in 
which  Mary  had  received  him  four  years  before, 
and  he  opened  her  letter  with  a  tremor  in  his 
hands.  It  was  dated  the  Christmas  day  of  the 
year  of  his  visit;  it  was  more  than  three  years  be 
lated,  but  he  read  it  as  if  it  were  written  the 
day  before,  and  it  moved  him  quite  as  power 
fully. 

259 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

"My  DEAR  FRIEND:  The  impulse  to  write 
to  you  has  grown  stronger  day  by  day  since 
you  left.  Your  wonderful  life  and  your  words 
appealed  to  my  imagination  with  such  power 
that  I  have  been  unable  to  put  them  out  of 
my  mind.  Without  intending  to  do  so  you 
have  filled  me  with  a  great  desire  to  see  the  West 
which  is  able  to  make  you  forget  your  family  and 
friends  and  calls  you  on  long  journeys.  I  have 
sung  for  you  every  Sunday  as  I  promised  to  do. 
Your  friend  Jack  called  to  see  me  last  night  and 
we  had  a  long  talk  about  you.  He  is  to  write 
you  also  and  gave  me  your  probable  address. 
You  said  you  were  not  a  good  writer  but  I  wish 
you  would  let  me  know  where  you  are  and  what 
you  are  doing,  for  I  feel  a  deep  interest  in  you, 
although  I  can  not  make  myself  believe  that  you 
are  not  the  Harold  Excell  I  saw  in  Rock  River. 
In  reality  you  are  not  he,  any  more  than  I  am 
the  little  prig  who  sang  those  songs  to  save  your 
soul!  However,  I  was  not  so  bad  as  I  seemed 
even  then,  for  I  wanted  you  to  admire  my 
voice. 

"  I  hope  this  Christmas  day  finds  you  in  a 
warm  and  sheltered  place.  It  would  be  a  great 
comfort  to  me  if  I  could  know  you  were  not 
cold  and  hungry.  Jack  brought  me  a  beautiful 
present — a  set  of  George  Eliot.  I  ought  not  to 
have  accepted  it  but  he  seemed  so  sure  it  would 
260 


Again  on  the  Round-Up 

please  me  I  had  not  the  heart  to  refuse.  I  would 
send  something  to  you  only  I  can't  feel  sure  of 
reaching  you,  and  neither  does  Jack. 

"  It  may  be  of  interest  to  you  to  know  that 
Mr.  King  the  pastor,  in  whose  church  I  sang, 
has  resigned  his  pastorate  to  go  abroad  for  a 
year.  His  successor  is  a  man  with  a  family — I 
don't  see  how  he  will  manage  to  live  on  the  sal 
ary.  Mr.  King  had  independent  means  and  was 
a  bachelor." 

Right  there  the  youth  stopped.  Something 
told  him  that  he  had  reached  the  heart  of  the 
woman's,  message.  King  had  resigned  to  go 
abroad.  Why?  The  tone  of  the  letter  was 
studiedly  cold.  Why?  There  were  a  few  more 
lines  to  say  that  Jack  was  coming  in  to  eat 
Christmas  dinner  with  her  and  that  she  would 
sing  If  I  Were  a  Voice.  He  was  not  super- 
subtle  and  yet  something  in  this  letter  made 
his  throat  fill  and  his  head  a  little  dizzy.  If  it 
did  not  mean  that  she  had  broken  with  King, 
then  truth  could  not  be  conveyed  in  lines  of 
black  ink. 

He  tore  open  Jack's  letter.  It  was  short  and 
to  the  point. 

"  DEAR  HARRY:  If  you  can  get  away  come 
back  to  Marmion  and  see  Mary  again.  She  wants 
to  see  you  bad.     I  don't  know  what  has  hap- 
261 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

pened  but  I  think  she  has  given  King  his  walk 
ing  papers — and  all  on  account  of  you.  /  know 
it.  It  can't  be  anybody  else.  She  talked  of 
you  the  entire  evening.  O  man!  but  she  was 
beautiful.  She  sang  for  me  but  her  mind  was 
away  in  the  mountains.  I  could  see  that.  It 
was  her  interest  in  you  made  her  so  nice  to  me. 
Now  that's  the  God's  truth.  Come  back  and 
get  her.  Yours  in  haste, 

"JACK." 

Mose  tingled  with  the  sudden  joy  of  it. 
Jack's  letter,  so  unlike  his  usual  calm,  was  con 
vincing.  He  sprang  up,  a  smile  on  his  face,  his 
eyes  shining  with  happiness,  his  blood  surging 
through  his  heart,  and  then  he  remembered  the 
letters  were  three  years  old!  The  gray  cloud 
settled  down  upon  him — his  limbs  grew  cold, 
and  the  light  went  out  of  his  eyes. 

Three  years!  While  he  was  camping  in  the 
Grand  Canon  with  the  lizards  and  skunks  she 
was  waiting  to  hear  from  him.  While  he  sat  in 
the  shade  of  the  walls  of  Walpi,  surrounded  by 
hungry  dogs  and  pot-bellied  children,  she  was 
singing  for  him  and  wondering  whether  her  let 
ter  had  ever  reached  him.  Three  years!  A 
thousand  things  could  happen  in  three  years. 
She  may  have  died! — a  cold  shudder  touched 
him — she  might  tire  of  waiting  and  marry  some 
262 


Again  on  the  Round-Up 

one  else — or  she  might  have  gone  away  to  the 
East,  that  unknown  and  dangerous  jungle  of 
cities. 

He  sprang  up  again.  "  I  will  go  to  see  her!  " 
he  said  to  himself.  Then  he  remembered.  His 
horse  was  worn,  he  had  no  money  and  no  suit 
able  clothing.  Then  he  thought:  "I  will 
write."  It  did  not  occur  to  him  to  telegraph, 
for  he  had  never  done  such  a  thing  in  his  life. 

He  walked  out  into  the  sitting-room,  his  let 
ters  in  his  hands. 

"  How  far  do  you  call  it  to  Wagon  Wheel?  " 

"  About  thirty  miles,  and  all  up  hill." 

"  Will  you  loan  me  one  of  your  bronchos?  " 

"  Certain  sure,  my  boy." 

"  I  want  to  ride  up  there  and  send  a  couple 
of  letters." 

"  Better  wait  till  morning,"  said  Reynolds. 
"  Your  letters  have  waited  three  years — I  reckon 
they'll  keep  over  night." 

"  That's  so,"  said  Mose  with  a  smile. 

Sleep  came  to  him  swiftly,  in  spite  of  his 
letters,  for  he  was  very  tired,  but  he  found  the 
room  close  and  oppressive  when  he  arose  in  the 
morning.  The  women  were  already  preparing 
breakfast  and  Reynolds  sat  by  the  fire  pulling 
on  his  boots. 

As  they  were  walking  out  to  the  barn  Rey 
nolds  plucked  him  by  the  sleeve  and  said; 
263 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

"  I  reckon  I've  lost  my  chance  to  kill  Craig." 

"Why?" 

"  A  Mexican  took  the  job  off  my  hands." 
His  face  expressed  a  sort  of  gloomy  dissatisfac 
tion.  Then  without  looking  at  Mose  he  went 
on:  "  That's  one  reason  daughter  looks  so  pert. 
She's  free  of  that  skunk's  clutches  now — and 
can  hold  up  her  head.  She's  free  to  marry  a 
decent  man." 

Mose  was  silent.  Mary's  letter  had  thrust 
itself  between  his  lips  and  Cora's  shapely  head, 
and  all  thought  of  marriage  with  her  was  gone. 

As  they  galloped  up  to  the  camp  the  boys 
were  at  work  finishing  the  last  bunch  of  calves. 
The  camp  wagon  was  packed  and  ready  to  start 
across  the  divide,  but  the  cook  flourished  a  news 
paper  and  came  running  up. 

"  Here  you  are,  posted  like  a  circus." 

Mose  took  the  paper,  and  on  the  front  page 
read  in  big  letters: 

BLACK  MOSE! 

Mysterious  as  Ever. 

The   Celebrated  Dead  Shot. 

Visits  Wagon  Wheel,  and  Swiftly  Disappears. 

"Damn  'em!"  said  Mose,  "can't  they  let 
me  alone?  Seems  like  they  can't  rest  till  they 
crowd  me  into  trouble." 


264 


CHAPTER  XVII 

MOSE    RETURNS   TO    WAGON    WHEEL 

As  Mose  threw  the  rope  over  the  bald-faced 
pinto  the  boys  all  chuckled  and  drew  near,  for 
they  knew  the  character  of  the  horse.  Reynolds 
had  said,  "  Take  your  pick  o'  the  bunch,"  and 
Mose,  with  the  eye  of  a  horseman,  had  roped  the 
pinto  because  of  his  size,  depth  of  chest,  and 
splendid  limbs. 

As  he  was  leading  his  captive  out  of  the 
bunch  the  cook  said  to  Mose,  "  Better  not  take 
that  pinto;  he's  mean  as  a  hornet." 

"Is  his  wind  all  right?" 

"  He's  one  o'  the  best  horses  on  the  range, 
all  right,  but  he  shore  is  mean  all  the  way 
through.  He  always  pitches  at  the  start  like  he 
was  fair  crazy." 

"  Does  he  go  when  he  gets  through?  "  asked 
Mose  of  Reynolds. 

"  Yes,  he's  a  good  traveler." 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  delayed,  that's  all.  If 
he'll  go,  I'll  stay  by  him." 

The  boys  nudged  elbows  while  Mose  threw 

265 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

the  saddle  on  the  cringing  brute  and  cinched  it 
till  the  pinto,  full  of  suffering,  drew  great,  quiet 
gulps  of  breath  and  groaned.  Swift,  practiced, 
relentless,  Mose  dragged  at  the  latigo  till  the 
wide  hair  web  embedded  itself  in  the  pony's  hide. 
Having  coiled  the  rope  neatly  out  of  the  way, 
while  the  broncho  stood  with  drooping  head  but 
with  a  dull  red  flame  in  his  eyes,  Mose  flung  the 
rein  over  the  pony's  head.  Then  pinto  woke  up. 
With  a  mighty  sidewise  bound  he  attempted  to 
leave  his  rider,  but  Mose,  studiedly  imperturba 
ble,  with  left  hand  holding  the  reins  and  right 
hand  grasping  the  pommel,  went  with  him  as  if 
that  were  the  ordinary  way  of  mounting.  Im 
mense  power  was  in  the  stiff-legged  leaping  of 
the  beast.  His  body  seemed  a  ball  of  coiled 
steel  springs.  His  "  watch-eye "  rolled  in 
frenzy.  It  seemed  he  wished  to  beat  his  head 
against  his  rider's  face  and  kill  him.  He  rushed 
away  with  a  rearing,  jerking  motion,  in  a  series 
of  jarring  bounds,  snapping  his  rider  like  the 
lash  of  a  whip,  then  stopped  suddenly,  poised  on 
his  fore  feet,  with  devilish  intent  to  discharge 
Mose  over  his  head.  With  the  spurs  set  deep 
into  the  quivering  painted  hide  of  his  mount 
Mose  began  plying  the  quirt  like  a  flail.  The 
boys  cheered  and  yelled  with  delight.  It  was 
one  of  their  chief  recreations,  this  battle  with  a 
pitching  broncho. 

266 


Mose  Returns  to  Wagon  Wheel 

Suddenly  the  desperate  beast  paused  and, 
rearing  recklessly  high  in  the  air,  fell  backward 
hoping  to  crush  his  rider  under  his  saddle.  In 
the  instant,  while  he  towered,  poised  in  the  air, 
Mose  shook  his  right  foot  free  of  the  stirrup  and 
swung  to  the  left  and  alighted  on  his  feet,  while 
the  fallen  horse,  stunned  by  his  own  fall,  lay  for 
an  instant,  groaning  and  coughing.  Under  the 
sting  of  the  quirt,  he  scrambled  to  his  feet  only 
to  find  his  inexorable  rider  again  on  his  back, 
with  merciless  spurs  set  deep  in  the  quick  of  his 
quivering  sides.  With  a  despairing  squeal  he 
set  off  in  a  low,  swift,  sidewise  gallop,  and  for 
nearly  an  hour  drummed  along  the  trail,  up  hill 
and  down,  the  foam  mingling  with,  the  yellow 
dust  on  his  heaving  flanks. 

When  the  broncho's  hot  anger  had  cooled, 
Mose  gave  him  his  head,  and  fell  to  thinking 
upon  the  future.  He  had  been  more  than  eight 
years  in  the  range  and  on  the  trail  and  all  he 
owned  in  the  world  was  a  saddle,  a  gun,  a  rope, 
and  a  horse.  The  sight  of  Cora,  the  caressing 
of  little  Pink,  and  Mary's  letter  had  roused  in 
him  a  longing  for  a  wife  and  a  shanty  of  his  own. 

The  grass  was  getting  sere,  there  was  new- 
fallen  snow  on  Lizard  Head,  and  winter  was 
coming.  He  had  the  animal's  instinct  to  den 
up,  to  seek  winter  quarters.  Certain  ties  other 
than  those  of  Mary's  love  combined  to  draw  him 
18  267 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

back  to  Marmion  for  the  winter.  If  he  could  only 
shake  off  his  burdening  notoriety  and  go  back 
to  see  her — to  ask  her  advice — perhaps  she  could 
aid  him.  But  to  sneak  back  again — to  crawl 
about  in  dark  corners — that  was  impossible. 

He  was  no  longer  the  frank  and  boyish  lover 
of  adventure.  Life  troubled  him  now,  conduct 
was  become  less  simple,  actions  each  day  less 
easily  determined.  These  women  now  made 
him  ponder.  Cora,  who  was  accustomed  to  the 
range  and  whose  interests  were  his  own  in  many 
ways,  the  princess,  whose  money  and  influence 
could  get  him  something  to  do  in  Wagon 
Wheel,  and  Mary,  whose  very  name  made  him 
shudder  with  remembered  adoration — each  one 
now  made  him  think.  Mary,  of  all  the  group, 
was  most  certainly  unfitted  to  share  his  mode 
of  life,  and  yet  the  thought  of  her  made  the 
others  impossible  to  him. 

The  marshal  saw  him  ride  up  the  street  and 
throw  himself  from  his  horse  before  the  post 
office  and  hastened  toward  him  with  his  hand 
extended.  "  Hello!  Mose,  I've  got  a  telegram 
for  you  from  Sweetwater." 

Mose  took  it  without  a  word  and  opened  it. 
It  was  from  his  father:  "  Wait  for  me  in  Wagon 
Wheel.  I  am  coming." 

The  marshal  was  grinning.     "  Did  you  see 
the  write-up  in  yesterday's  Mother  Lode?  " 
268 


Mose  Returns  to  Wagon  Wheel 

"  Yes — I  saw  it,  and  cussed  you  for  it." 

"  I  knowd  you  would,  but  I  couldn't  help  it. 
Billy,  the  editor,  got  hold  of  me  and  pumped  the 
whole  story  out  of  me  before  I  knew  it.  I  don't 
think  it  does  you  any  harm." 

"  It  didn't  do  me  any  good,"  replied  Mose 
shortly. 

"  Say,  the  princess  wants  to  see  you.  She's 
on  the  street  somewhere  now,  looking  for  you." 

"  Where's  the  telegraph  office?  "  he  abrupt 
ly  asked. 

The  telegram  from  his  father  had  put  the  idea 
into  his  head  to  communicate  in  that  way  with 
Mary  and  Jack. 

The  marshal  led  the  way  to  a  stage  office 
wherein  stood  a  counter  and  a  row  of  clicking 
machines. 

"  What  is  the  cost  of  a  telegram  to  Marmion, 
Iowa?  "  asked  Mose. 

"  One  dollar,  ten  words.    Each  ad " 

Mose  thrust  his  hand  into  his  pocket  and 
pulled  out  all  his  money,  a  handful  of  small 
change.  His  face  grew  bitter,  his  last  dollar 
was  broken  into  bits. 

"  Make  it  night  rates  for  sixty,"  said  the 
operator.  "  Be  delivered  to-morrow  morning." 

"  Go  ahead,"  said  Mose,  and  set  to  work  to 
compose  a  message.  The  marshal,  with  unex 
pected  delicacy,  sauntered  out  into  the  street. 
2  69 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

Now  that  he  was  actually  face  to  face  with 
the  problem  of  answering  Mary's  letter  in  ten 
words  the  youth's  hand  refused  to  write,  and 
he  stood  looking  at  the  yellow  slip  of  paper  with 
an  intensity  that  was  comical  to  the  clerk. 
Plainly  this  cowboy  was  not  accustomed  to  tele 
graphing. 

Mose  felt  the  waiting  presence  of  the  clerk 
and  said: 

"  Can  I  set  down  here  and  think  it  over?  " 

"  Why  sure,  take  a  seat  at  that  table  over 
there." 

Under  the  pressure  of  his  emotion  Mose 
wrote  "  Dear  Mary  "  and  stopped.  The  chap  at 
the  other  end  of  the  line  would  read  that  and 
comment  on  it.  He  struck  that  out.  Then  it 
occurred  to  him  that  if  he  signed  it  "  Harry  " 
this  operator  would  marvel,  and  if  he  signed 
"  Mose  "  the  other  end  of  the  line  would  wonder. 
He  rose,  crushing  the  paper  in  his  hand,  and 
went  out  into  the  street.  There  was  only  one 
way — to  write. 

This  he  did  standing  at  the  ink-bespattered 
shelf  which  served  as  writing  desk  in  the  post 
office. 

"  DEAR  MARY:  I  have  just  received  your  let 
ter.     It's  a  little  late  but  perhaps  it  ain't  too  late. 
Anyhow,  I'm  banking  on  this  rinding  you  just 
270 


Mose  Returns  to  Wagon  Wheel 

the  same  as  when  you  wrote.  I  wish  I  could 
visit  you  again  but  I'm  afraid  I  couldn't  do  it  a 
second  time  without  being  recognized,  but  write 
to  me  at  once,  and,  if  you  say  come,  I'll  come. 
I  am  poorer  than  I  was  four  years  ago,  but  I've 
been  on  the  trail,  I  know  the  mountains  now. 
There's  no  other  place  for  me,  but  I  get  lone 
some  sometimes  when  I  think  of  you.  I'm  no 
good  at  writing  letters — can't  write  as  well  as  I 
could  when  I  was  twenty,  so  don't  mind  my 
short  letter,  but  if  I  could  see  you!  Write  at 
once  and  I'll  borrow  or  steal  enough  money  to 
pay  my  way  to  you — I  don't  expect  to  ever  see 
you  out  here  in  the  West." 

While  still  pondering  over  his  letter  he  heard 
the  rustle  of  a  woman's  dress  and  turned  to  face 
the  princess,  in  magnificent  attire,  her  gloved 
hand  extended  toward  him,  her  face  radiant  with 
pleasure. 

"  Why,  my  dear  boy,  where  have  you  been?  " 

Mose  shook  hands,  his  letter  to  Mary  (still 
unsealed)  in  his  left  hand.  "  Been  down  on  the 
range,"  he  mumbled  in  profound  embarrass 
ment. 

She  assumed  a  girlish  part.  "  But  you  prom 
ised  to  come  and  see  me." 

He  turned  away  to  seal  his  letter  and  she 
studied  him  with  admiring  eyes.  He  was  so  in- 
271 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

teresting  in  his  boyish  confusion — graceful  in 
spite  of  his  irrelevant  movements,  for  he  was  as 
supple,  as  properly  poised,  and  as  sinewy  as  a 
panther. 

"  You're  a  great  boy,"  she  said  to  him  when 
he  came  back.  "  I  like  you,  I  want  to  do  some 
thing  for  you.  Get  into  my  carriage,  and  let  me 
tell  you  of  some  plans." 

He  looked  down  at  his  faded  woolen  shirt 
and  lifted  his  hand  to  his  greasy  sombrero. 
"Oh,  no!  I  can't  do  that." 

She  laughed.  "  You  ought  to  be  able  to 
stand  it  if  I  can.  I'd  be  rather  proud  of  having 
'  Black  Mose  '  in  my  carriage." 

"  I  guess  not,"  he  said.  There  was  a  cadence 
in  these  three  words  to  which  she  bowed  her 
head.  She  surrendered  her  notion  quickly. 

"  Come  down  to  the  Palace  with  me." 

"  All  right,  I'll  do  that,"  he  replied  without 
interest. 

"  Meet  me  there  in  half  an  hour." 

"  All  right." 

"  Good-by  till  then." 

He  did  not  reply  but  took  her  extended 
hand,  while  the  young  fellow  in  the  postal  cage 
grinned  with  profound  appreciation.  After  the 
princess  went  out  this  clerk  said,  "  Pard,  you've 
struck  it  rich." 

Mose  turned  and  his  eyebrows  lowered  dan- 
272 


Mose  Returns  to  Wagon  Wheel 

gerously.  "  Keep  to  your  letter  punchin', 
young  feller,  and  you'll  enjoy  better  health." 

Those  who  happened  to  be  standing  in  the 
room  held  their  breath,  for  in  that  menacing, 
steady  glare  they  recognized  battle. 

The  clerk  gasped  and  stammered,  "  I  didn't 
mean  anything." 

"That's  all  right.  You're  lately  from  the 
East,  or  you  wouldn't  get  gay  with  strangers  in 
this  country.  See  if  there  is  any  mail  for  Mose 
Harding — or  Harry  Excell." 

"  Sorry,  sir — nothing  for  Mr.  Harding,  noth 
ing  for  Mr.  Excell." 

Mose  turned  back  to  the  desk  and  scrawled 
a  short  letter  to  Jack  Burns  asking  him  to 
let  him  know  at  once  where  Mary  was, 
and  whether  it  would  be  safe  for  him  to 
visit  her. 

As  he  went  out  in  the  street  to  mount  his 
horse  the  marshal  met  him  again,  and  Mose, 
irritated  and  hungry,  said  sharply: 

"  See  here,  pardner,  you  act  most  cussedly 
like  a  man  keeping  watch  on  me." 

The  marshal  hastened  to  say,  "  Nothing  of 
the  kind.  I  like  you,  that's  all.  I  want  to  talk 
with  you — in  fact  I'm  under  orders  from  the 
princess  to  help  you  get  a  job  if  you  want  one. 
I've  got  an  offer  now.  The  Express  Company 
want  you  to  act  as  guard  between  here  and 
273 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

Canon  City.  Pay  is  one  hundred  dollars  a 
month,  ammunition  furnished." 

Mose  threw  out  his  hand.  "  I'll  do  it — take 
it  all  back." 

The  marshal  shook  hands  without  resent 
ment,  considering  the  apology  ample,  and  to 
gether  they  sauntered  down  the  street. 

"  Now,  pardner,  let  me  tell  you  how  I  size  up 
the  princess.  She's  a  good-hearted  woman  as 
ever  lived,  but  she's  a  little  off  color  with  the 
women  who  run  the  church  socials  here.  She's 
a  rippin'  good  business  woman,  and  her  luck 
beats  h — 1.  Why  last  week  she  bought  a  feller's 
claim  in  fer  ten  thousand  dollars  and  yesterday 
they  tapped  a  vein  of  eighty  dollar  ore,  runnin' 
three  feet  wide.  She  don't  haff  to  live  here — 
she's  worth  a  half  million  dollars — but  she  likes 
mining  and  she  likes  men.  She  knows  how  to 
handle  'em  too — as  you'll  find  out.  She's  hail- 
fellow  with  us  all — but  I  tell  ye  she's  got  to  like 
a  feller  all  through  before  he  sees  the  inside  of 
her  parlor.  She's  stuck  on  you.  We're  good 
friends — she  come  to  call  on  my  wife  yesterday, 
and  she  talked  about  you  pretty  much  the  hull 
time.  I  never  saw  her  worse  bent  up  over  a 
man.  I  believe  she'd  marry  you,  Mose,  I  do." 

"  Takes  two  for  a  bargain  of  that  kind,"  said 
Mose. 

The  marshal  turned.  "  But,  my  boy,  that 
274 


Mose  Returns  to  Wagon  Wheel 

means  making  you  a  half  owner  of  all  she  has — 
why  that  last  mine  may  go  to  a  million  within 
six  months." 

"  That's  all  right,"  Mose  replied,  feeling  the 
intended  good  will  of  the  older  man.  "  But  I 
expect  to  find  or  earn  my  own  money.  I  can't 
marry  a  woman  fifteen  years  older'n  I  am  for 
her  money.  It  ain't  right  and  it  ain't  decent, 
and  you'll  oblige  me  by  shutting  up  all  such 
talk." 

The  sheriff  humbly  sighed.  "  She  is  a  good 
deal  older,  that's  a  fact — but  she's  took  care  of 
herself.  Still,  as  you  say,  it's  none  o'  my  busi 
ness.  If  she  can't  persuade  you,  I  can't.  Come 
in,  and  I'll  introduce  you  to  the  managers  of  the 
National " 

"  Can't  now,  I  will  later." 

"  All  right,  so  long!     Come  in  any  time." 

Mose  stepped  into  a  barber  shop  to  brush 
up  a  little,  for  he  had  acquired  a  higher  estimate 
of  the  princess,  and  when  he  entered  the  dining 
room  of  the  Palace  he  made  a  handsome  figure. 
Whatever  he  wore  acquired  distinction  from  his 
beauty.  His  hat,  no  matter  how  stained,  pos 
sessed  charm.  His  dark  shirt  displayed  the 
splendid  shape  of  his  shoulders,  and  his  cartridge 
belt  slanted  across  his  hip  at  just  the  right  angle. 

The  woman  waiting  for  him  smiled  with  an 
exultant  glint  in  her  half-concealed  eyes. 
275 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

"  Sit  there,"  she  commanded,  pointing  at  a 
chair.  "  Two  beers,"  she  said  to  the  waiter. 

Mose  took  the  chair  opposite  and  looked 
at  her  smilelessly.  He  waited  for  her  to 
move. 

"  Ever  been  East — Chicago,  Washington?  " 

"  No." 

"  Want  to  go?  " 

"  No." 

She  smiled  again.  "  Know  anything  about 
mining?  " 

"  Not  a  thing." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  musing,  admiring 
glance.  "  I've  got  a  big  cattle  ranch — will  you 
superintend  it  for  me?  " 

"Where  is  it?" 

She  laughed  and  stammered  a  little.  "  Well 
— I  mean  I've  been  thinking  of  buying  one.  I'm 
kind  o'  tired  of  these  mining  towns;  I  believe 
I'd  like  to  live  on  a  ranch,  with  you  to  superin 
tend  it." 

His  face  darkened  again,  and  she  hastened  to 
say,  "  The  cattle  business  is  going  to  boom  again 
soon.  They're  all  dropping  out  of  it  fast,  but 
now  is  the  time  to  get  in  and  buy." 

The  beer  came  and  interrupted  her.   "  Here's 

to  good  luck,"  she  said.    They  drank,  and  as  she 

daintily  touched  her  lips  with  her  handkerchief 

she  lifted  her  eyes  to  him  again — strange  eyes 

276 


Mose  Returns  to  Wagon  Wheel 

with  lovely  green  and  yellow  and  pink  lights  in 
them  not  unlike  some  semi-precious  stones. 

"You  don't  like  me,"  she  said.  "Why 
won't  you  let  me  help  you?  " 

"  You  want  a  square-toed  answer? "  he 
asked  grimly,  looking  her  steadily  in  the  eyes. 

She  paled  a  little.     "  Yes." 

"  There  is  a  girl  in  Iowa — I  make  it  my  busi 
ness  to  work  for  her." 

Her  eyes  fell  and  her  right  hand  slowly 
turned  the  mug  around  and  around.  When  she 
looked  up  she  seemed  older  and  her  eyes  were 
sadder.  "  That  need  make  no  difference." 

"  But  it  does,"  he  said  slowly.  "  It  makes 
all  the  difference  there  is." 

She  became  suddenly  very  humble.  "  You 
misunderstand  me — I  mean,  I'll  help  you  both. 
How  do  you  expect  to  live?  " 

His  eyes  fell  now.  He  flushed  and  shifted 
uneasily  in  his  chair.  "  I  don't  know."  Then 
he  unbent  a  little  in  saying,  "  That's  what's 
bothering  me  right  now." 

She  pursued  her  advantage.  "  If  you  marry 
you've  got  to  quit  all  this  trail  business." 

"  Dead  sure  thing!  And  that  scares  me  too. 
I  don't  know  how  I'd  stand  being  tied  down  to 
a  stake." 

She  laid  a  hand  on  his  arm.  "  Now  see  here, 
Mose,  you  let  me  help  you.  You  know  all  about 
277 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

cattle  and  the  trail,  you  can  shoot  and  throw  a 
rope,  but  you're  a  babe  at  lots  of  other  things. 
You've  got  to  get  to  work  at  something,  settle 
right  down,  and  dig  up  some  dust.  Now  isn't 
that  so?  " 

"  I  reckon  that's  the  size  of  it." 

It  was  singular  how  friendly  she  now  seemed 
in  his  eyes.  There  was  something  so  frank  and 
gentle  in  her  voice  (though  her  eyes  remained 
.sinister)  that  he  began  almost  to  trust  her. 

"  Well,  now,  I  tell  you  what  you  can  do. 
You  take  the  job  I  got  for  you  with  the  Express 
Company  and  I'll  look  around  and  corral  some 
thing  else  for  you." 

He  could  not  refuse  to  take  her  hand  upon 
this  compact.  Then  she  said  with  an  attempt 
to  be  careless,  "Have  you  a  picture  of  this  girl? 
I'd  like  to  see  how  she  looks." 

His  face  darkened  again.  "  No,"  he  said 
shortly,  "  I  never  had  one  of  her." 

She  recognized  his  unwillingness  to  say 
more. 

"  Well,  good-by,  come  and  see  me." 

He  parted  from  her  with  a  sense  of  having 
been  unnecessarily  harsh  with  a  woman  who 
wished  to  be  his  good  friend. 

He  was  hungry  and  that  made  him  think  of 
his  horse  which  he  returned  to  at  once.  After 
watering  and  feeding  his  tired  beast  he  turned  in 

278 


Mose  Returns  to  Wagon  Wheel 

at  a  coffeehouse  and  bought  a  lunch — -not  being 
able  to  afford  a  meal.  Everywhere  he  went  men 
pointed  a  timid  or  admiring  thumb  at  him. 
They  were  unobtrusive  about  it,  but  it  annoyed 
him  at  the  moment.  His  mind  was  too  entirely 
filled  with  perplexities  to  welcome  strangers' 
greetings.  "  I  must  earn  some  money,"  was  the 
thought  which  brought  with  it  each  time  the 
offer  of  the  Express  Company.  He  determined 
each  time  to  take  it  although  it  involved  riding 
the  same  trail  over  and  over  again,  which  made 
him  shudder  to  think  of.  But  it  was  three  times 
the  pay  of  a  cowboy  and  a  single  month  of 
it  would  enable  him  to  make  his  trip  to  the 
East. 

After  his  luncheon  he  turned  in  at  the  office 
and  sullenly  accepted  the  job.  "  You're  just  the 
man  we  need,"  said  the  manager.  "  We've  had 
two  or  three  hold-ups  here,  but  with  you  on  the 
seat  I  shall  feel  entirely  at  ease.  Marshal  Haney 
has  recommended  you — and  I  know  your  record 
as  a  daring  man.  Can  you  go  out  to-morrow 
morning?  " 

"  Quicker  the  better." 

"  I'd  like  to  have  you  sleep  here  in  the  office. 
I'll  see  that  you  have  a  good  bed." 

"  Anywhere." 

After  Mose  went  out  the  manager  winked  at 
the  marshal  and  said: 

279 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

"  It's  a  good  thing  to  have  him  retained  on 
our  side.  He'd  make  a  bad  man  on  the  hold-up 
side." 

"Sure  thing!"  replied  Haney. 

While  loitering  on  a  street  corner  still  busy 
with  his  problems  Mose  saw  a  tall  man  on  a  fine 
black  horse  coming  down  the  street.  The  rider 
slouched  in  his  saddle  like  a  tired  man  but  with 
the  grace  of  a  true  horseman.  On  his  bushy 
head  sat  a  wide  soft  hat  creased  in  the  middle. 
His  suit  was  brown  corduroy. 

Mose  thought,  "  If  that  bushy  head  was  not 
so  white  I  should  say  it  was  father's.  It  is 
father!" 

He  let  him  pass,  staring  in  astonishment  at 
the  transformation  in  the  minister.  "  Well, 
well!  the  old  man  has  woke  up.  He  looks  the 
real  thing,  sure." 

A  drum  struck  up  suddenly  and  the  broncho 
(never  too  tired  to  shy)  gave  a  frenzied  leap. 
The  rider  went  with  him,  reins  in  hand,  heels  set 
well  in,  knees  grasping  the  saddle. 

Mose  smiled  with  genuine  pleasure.  "  I 
didn't  know  he  could  ride  like  that,"  and  he 
turned  to  follow  with  a  genuine  interest. 

He  came  up  to  Mr.  Excell  just  as  the  marshal 
stepped  out  of  the  crowd  and  accosted  him.  For 
the  first  time  in  his  life  Mose  was  moved  to  joke 
his  father, 

280 


Mose  Returns  to  Wagon  Wheel 

"  Marshal,  that  man  is  a  dangerous  charac 
ter.  I  know  him;  put  him  out." 

The  father  turned  and  a  smile  lit  his  darkly 
tanned  face.  "  Harry " 

Mose  made  a  swift  sign,  "  Old  man,  how  are 
ye?  "  The  minister's  manner  pleased  his  son.  He 
grasped  his  father's  hand  with  a  heartiness  that 
checked  speech  for  the  moment,  then  he  said, 
"  I  was  looking  for  you.  Where  you  from?  " 

"  I've  got  a  summer  camp  between  here  and 
the  Springs.  I  saw  the  notice  of  you  in  yester 
day's  paper.  I've  been  watching  the  news 
papers  for  a  long  time,  hoping  to  get  some  word 
of  you.  I  seized  the  first  chance  and  came  on." 

Mose  turned.  "  Marshal,  I'll  vouch  for  this 
man;  he's  an  old  neighbor  of  mine." 

Mr.  Excell  slipped  to  the  ground  and  Mose 
took  the  rein  on  his  arm.  "  Come,  let's  put  the 
horse  with  mine."  They  walked  away,  elbow 
to  elbow.  A  wonderful  change  had  swept  over 
Mr.  Excell.  He  was  brown,  alert,  and  vigorous 
— but  more  than  all,  his  eyes  were  keen  and 
cheerful  and  his  smile  ready  and  manly. 

"  You're  looking  well,"  said  the  son. 

"  I  am  well.  Since  I  struck  the  high  alti 
tudes  I'm  a  new  man.  I  dorh't  wonder  you  love 
this  life." 

"  Are  you  preaching?  " 

. "  Yes,  I  speak  once  a  week  in  the  Springs. 
281 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

I  ride  down  the  trail  from  my  cabin  and  back 
again  the  same  day.  The  fact  is  I  stayed  in 
Rock  River  till  I  was  nearly  broken.  I  lost  my 
health,  and  became  morbid,  trying  to  preach 
to  the  needs  of  the  old  men  and  women  of  my 
congregation.  Now  I  am  free.  I  am  back  to 
the  wild  country.  Of  course,  so  long  as  my  wife 
lived  I  couldn't  break  away,  but  now  I  have  no 
one  but  myself  and  my  needs  are  small.  I  am 
happier  than  I  have  been  for  years." 

As  they  walked  and  talked  together  the  two 
men  approached  an  understanding.  Mr.  Excell 
felt  sure  of  his  son's  interest,  for  the  first  time 
in  many  years,  and  avoided  all  terms  of  affection. 
In  his  return  to  the  more  primitive,  bolder  life 
he  unconsciously  left  behind  him  all  the  "  soft 
phrases "  which  had  disgusted  his  son.  He 
struck  the  right  note  almost  without  knowing 
it,  and  the  son,  precisely  as  he  perceived  in  his 
father  a  return  to  rugged  manliness,  opened  his 
hand  to  him. 

Together  they  took  care  of  the  horse,  to 
gether  they  walked  the  streets.  They  sat  at  sup 
per  together  and  the  father's  joy  was  very  great 
when  at  night  they  camped  together  and  Mose 
so  far  unbent  as  to  tell  of  his  adventures.  He 
did  not  confide  his  feeling  for  Mary — his  love  was 
far  too  deep  for  that.  A  strange  woman  had 
reached  it  by  craft,  a  father's  affection  failed  of  it. 
282 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE  EAGLE  GUARDS  THE  SHEEP 

MOSE  did  not  enter  upon  his  duties  as  guard 
with  joy.  It  seemed  like  small  business  and  not 
exactly  creditable  employment  for  a  trailer  and 
cow  puncher.  It  was  in  his  judgment  a  foolish 
expenditure  of  money;  but  as  there  was  nothing 
better  to  do  and  his  need  of  funds  was  impera 
tive,  he  accepted  it. 

The  papers  made  a  great  deal  of  it,  compli 
menting  the  company  upon  its  shrewdness,  and 
freely  predicted  that  no  more  hold-ups  would 
take  place  along  that  route.  Mose  rode  out  of 
town  on  the  seat  with  the  driver,  a  Winchester 
between  his  knees  and  a  belt  of  cartridges  for 
both  rifle  and  revolvers  showing  beneath  his 
coat.  He  left  the  stable  each  morning  at  four 
A.  M.  and  rode  to  the  halfway  house,  where  he 
slept  over  night,  returning  the  following  day. 
From  the  halfway  house  to  the  Springs  there 
were  settlers  and  less  danger. 

He  was  conscious  of  being  an  object  of  curi 
ous  inquiry.  Meeting  stage  coaches  was  equiv- 
19  283 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

alent  to  being  fired  at  by  fifty  pistols.  Low 
words  echoed  from  lip  to  lip:  "  Black  Mose," 
"  bad  man,"  "  graveyard  of  his  own,"  "  good  fel 
low  when  sober,"  etc.  Sometimes,  irritated  and 
reckless,  he  lived  up  to  his  sinister  reputation, 
and  when  some  Eastern  gentleman  in  brown 
corduroy  timidly  approached  to  say,  "  Fine 
weather,"  Mose  turned  upon  him  a  baleful  glare 
under  which  the  questioner  shriveled,  to  the  de 
light  of  the  driver,  who  vastly  admired  the  new 
guard. 

At  times  he  was  unnecessarily  savage.  Well- 
meaning  men  who  knew  nothing  about  him,  ex 
cept  that  he  was  a  guard,  were  rebuffed  in  quite 
the  same  way.  He  was  indeed  becoming  self- 
conscious,  as  if  on  exhibition,  somehow — and 
this  feeling  deepened  as  the  days  passed,  for 
nothing  happened.  No  lurking  forms  showed 
in  the  shadow  of  the  pines.  No  voice  called 
"  Halt!  "  It  became  more  and  more  like  a  stage 
play. 

He  was  much  disturbed  by  Jack's  letter 
which  was  waiting  for  him  one  night  when  he 
returned  to  Wagon  Wheel. 

"  DEAR  HARRY:  I  went  up  to  see  Mary  a 
few  weeks  ago  and  found  she  had  gone  to  Chica 
go.     Her  father  died  over  a  year  ago  and  she 
decided  soon  after  to  go  to  the  city  and  go  on 
284 


The  Eagle  Guards  the  Sheep 

with  her  music.  She's  in  some  conservatory 
there.  I  don't  know  which  one.  I  tried  hard 
to  keep  her  on  my  own  account  but  she  wouldn't 
listen  to  me.  Well,  yes,  she  listened  but  she 
shook  her  head-  She  dropped  King  soon  after 
your  visit — whether  you  had  anything  to  do 
with  that  or  not  I  don't  know — I  think  you  did, 
but  as  you  didn't  write  she  gave  you  up  as  a  bad 
job.  She  always  used  to  talk  of  you  and  wonder 
where  you  were,  and  every  time  I  called  she 
used  to  sing  If  I  Were  a  Voice.  She  never 
said  she  was  singing  it  for  you,  but  there  were 
tears  in  her  eyes — and  in  mine,  too,  old  man. 
You  oughtn't  to  be  throwing  yourself  away  in 
that  wild,  God-forsaken  country.  We  discussed 
you  most  of  the  time.  Once  in  a  while  she'd  see 
a  little  note  in  the  paper  about  you,  and  cut  it 
out  and  send  it  to  me.  I  did  the  same.  We 
heard  of  you  at  Flagstaff,  Arizona.  Then  that 
row  you  had  with  the  Mormons  was  the  next 
we  knew,  but  we  couldn't  write.  She  said  it  was 
pretty  tough  to  hear  of  you  only  in  some  scrape, 
but  I  told  her  your  side  hadn't  been  heard  from 
and  that  gave  her  a  lot  of  comfort.  The  set-to 
you  had  about  the  Indians'  right  to  hunt  pleased 
us  both.  That  was  a  straight  case.  She  said  it 
was  like  a  knight  of  the  olden  time. 

"  She  was  uneasy  about  you,  and  once  she 
said,  '  I  wish  I  could  reach  him.     That  rough 
285 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

life  terrifies  me.  He's  in  constant  danger/  I 
think  she  was  afraid  you'd  take  to  drinking,  and 
I  own  up,  old  man,  that  worries  me.  If  you  only 
had  somebody  to  look  after  you — somebody  to 
work  for — like  I  have.  I'm  going  to  be  married 
in  September.  You  know  her — only  she  was  a 
little  girl  when  you  lived  here.  Her  name  is 
Lily  Blanchard. 

"  I  wish  I  could  help  you  about  Mary.  I'm 
going  to  write  to  one  or  two  parties  who  may 
know  her  address.  If  she's  in  Chicago  you 
could  visit  her  without  any  trouble.  They 
wouldn't  get  on  to  you  there  at  all.  If  you  go, 
be  sure  and  come  this  way.  Your  father  went 
to  Denver  from  here — have  you  heard  from 
him?  " 

There  was  deep  commotion  in  the  trailer's 
brain  that  night.  The  hope  he  had  was  too 
sacredly  sweet  to  put  into  words — the  hope  that 
she  still  thought  of  him  and  longed  for  him.  If 
Jack  were  right,  then  she  had  waited  and 
watched  for  him  through  all  those  years  of  wan 
dering,  while  he,  bitter  and  unrelenting,  and  be 
lieving  that  she  was  King's  wife,  had  refused  to 
listen  for  her  voice  on  Sunday  evenings.  If  she 
had  kept  her  promise,  then  on  the  trail,  in  can 
ons  dark  and  deathly  still,  on  the  moonlit  sand 
of  the  Painted  Desert,  on  the  high  divides  of  the 
286 


The  Eagle  Guards  the  Sheep 

Needle  Range,  her  thought  had  been  winged  to 
ward  him  in  song — and  he  had  not  listened. 

His  thought  turned  now,  for  the  first  time, 
toward  the  great  city,  which  was  to  him  a  savage 
jungle  of  unknown  things,  a  web  of  wire,  a  maze 
of  streets,  a  swirling  flood  of  human  beings,  of 
interest  now  merely  and  solely  because  Mary  had 
gone  to  live  therein.  "  I'm  due  to  make  another 
trip  East,"  he  said  to  himself  with  a  grim 
straightening  of  the  lips. 

It  was  mighty  serious  business.  To  take 
Kintuck  and  hit  the  trail  for  the  Kalispels  over  a 
thousand  miles  of  mountain  and  plain,  was  sim 
ple,  but  to  thrust  himself  amid  the  mad  rush  of  a 
great  city  made  his  bold  heart  quail.  Money 
was  a  minor  consideration  in  the  hills,  but  in  the 
city  it  was  a  matter  of  life  and  death.  Money  he 
must  now  have,  and  as  he  could  not  borrow  or 
steal  it,  it  must  be  earned.  In  a  month  his  wages 
would  amount  to  one  hundred  dollars,  but  that 
was  too  slow.  He  saw  no  other  way,  however, 
so  set  his  teeth  and  prepared  to  go  on  with  the 
"  fool  business  "  of  guarding  the  treasure  wagon 
of  the  Express  Company. 

His  mind  reverted  often  to  the  cowboy  tour 
nament  which  was  about  to  come  off,  after  hang 
ing  fire  for  a  month,  during  which  Grassi  wres 
tled  with  the  problem  of  how  to  hold  a  bull 
fight  in  opposition  to  the  laws  of  the  State.  "  It 

287 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

I  could  whirl  in  and  catch  one  of  those  purses," 
thought  Mose,  "  I  could  leave  at  the  end  of 
August.  If  I  don't  I  must  hang  on  till  the  first 
of  October." 

He  determined  to  enter  for  the  roping  con 
test  and  for  the  cowboy  race  and  the  revolver 
practice.  Marshal  Haney  was  delighted.  "  I'll 
attend  to  the  business,  but  the  entrance  fees  will 
be  about  twenty  dollars." 

This  staggered  Mose.  It  meant  an  expendi 
ture  of  nearly  one  fourth  his  month's  pay  in  en 
trance  fees,  not  to  speak  of  the  expense  of  keep 
ing  Kintuck,  for  the  old  horse  had  to  go  into 
training  and  be  grain-fed  as  well.  However,  he 
was  too  confident  of  winning  to  hesitate.  He 
drew  on  his  wages,  and  took  a  day  off  to  fetch 
Kintuck,  whom  he  found  fat  and  hearty  and  very 
dirty. 

The  boys  at  the  Reynolds  ranch  were  willing 
to  bet  on  Mose,  and  every  soul  determined  to  be 
there.  Cora  said  quietly:  "  I  know  you'll  win." 

"  Well,  I  don't  expect  to  sweep  the  board, 
but  I'll  get  a  lunch  while  the  rest  are  getting  a 
full  meal,"  he  replied,  and  returned  to  his  duties. 

The  weather  did  not  change  for  the  tourna 
ment.  Each  morning  the  sun  arose  flashing 
with  white,  undimmed  fire.  At  ten  o'clock  great 
dazzling  white  clouds  developed  from  hidden 
places  behind  huge  peaks,  and  as  they  expanded 
288 


The  Eagle  Guards  the  Sheep 

each  let  fall  a  veil  of  shimmering  white  storms 
that  were  hail  on  the  heights  and  sleet  on  the 
paths  in  the  valleys.  Thesa  clouds  passed 
swiftly,  the  sun  came  out,  the  dandelions  shone 
vividly  through  their  coverlet  of  snow,  the 
eaves  dripped,  the  air  was  like  March,  and  the 
sunsets  like  November. 

Naturally,  Sunday  was  the  day  fixed  upon 
for  the  tournament,  and  early  on  that  day  miners 
in  clean  check  shirts  and  bright  new  blue  overalls 
began  to  stream  away  up  the  road  which  led  to 
the  race  track,  some  two  miles  away,  on  the  only 
level  ground  for  a  hundred  miles.  Swift  horses 
hitched  to  light  open  buggies  whirled  along, 
loaded  down  with  men.  Horsemen  galloped 
down  the  slopes  in  squadrons — and  such  horse 
men! — cowboys  from  "Lost  Park"  and  "the 
Animas."  Prospectors  like  Casey  and  Kelly 
who  were  quite  as  much  at  home  on  a  horse  as 
with  a  pick  in  a  ditch,  and  men  like  Marshal 
Haney  and  Grassi,  who  were  all-round  plains 
men,  and  by  that  same  token  born  horsemen. 
Haney  and  Kelly  rode  with  Reynolds  and  Mose, 
while  Cora  and  Mrs.  Reynolds  followed  in  a 
rusty  buggy  drawn  by  a  fleabitten  gray  cow 
pony,  sedate  with  age. 

Kintuck  was  as  alert  as  a  four-year-old.  His 
rest  had  filled  him  to  bursting  with  ambition  to 
do  and  to  serve.  His  muscles  played  under  his 

289 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

shining  skin  like  those  of  a  trained  athlete. 
Obedient  to  the  lightest  touch  or  word  of  his 
master,  with  ears  in  restless  motion,  he  curvetted 
like  a  racer  under  the  wire. 

"  Wouldn't  know  that  horse  was  twelve  years 
old,  would  you,  gentlemen? "  said  Reynolds. 
"  Well,  so  he  is,  and  he  has  covered  fifteen  thou 
sand  miles  o'  trail." 

Mose  was  at  his  best.  With  vivid  tie  flow 
ing  from  the  collar  of  his  blue  shirt,  with  a  new 
hat  properly  crushed  in  on  the  crown  in  four 
places,  with  shining  revolver  at  his  hip,  and  his 
rope  coiled  at  his  right  knee,  he  sat  his  splendid 
horse,  haughty  and  impassive  of  countenance, 
responding  to  the  greetings  of  the  crowd  only 
with  a  slight  nod  or  a  wave  of  the  hand. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  the  population  of  the 
whole  State — at  least  its  men — was  assembled 
within  the  big  stockade.  There  were  a  few 
women — just  enough  to  add  decorum  to  the 
crowd.  They  were  for  the  most  part  the  wives 
or  sisters  or  sweethearts  of  those  who  were  to 
contest  for  prizes,  but  as  Mose  rode  around  the 
course  he  passed  "  the  princess  "  sitting  in  her 
shining  barouche  and  waving  a  handkerchief. 
He  pretended  not  to  see  her,  though  it  gave  him 
pleasure  to  think  that  the  most  brilliantly- 
dressed  woman  on  the  grounds  took  such  inter 
est  in  him.  Another  man  would  have  ridden  up 
290 


The  Eagle  Guards  the  Sheep 

to  her  carriage,  but  Mose  kept  on  steadily  to  the 
judge's  stand,  where  he  found  a  group  of  cow 
boys  discussing  the  programme  with  Haney,  the 
marshal  of  the  day. 

Mose  already  knew  his  dangerous  rival — a 
powerful  and  handsome  fellow  called  Denver 
Dan,  whose  face  was  not  unlike  his  own.  His 
nose  was  straight  and  strong,  his  chin  finely 
modeled,  and  his  head  graceful,  but  he  was  heav 
ier,  and  a  persistent  flush  on  his  nose  and  in 
his  eyelids  betrayed  the  effects  of  liquor.  His 
hands  were  small  and  graceful  and  he  wore  his 
hat  with  a  certain  attractive  insolence,  but  his 
mouth  was  cruel  and  his  eyes  menacing.  When 
in  liquor  he  was  known  to  be  ferocious.  He 
was  mounted  on  a  superbly  pointed  grade  bron 
cho,  and  all  his  hangings  were  of  costly  Mexican 
workmanship  and  betrayed  use. 

"  The  first  thing  is  a  '  packing  contest,' ' 
read  Haney. 

"  Oh,  to  h 1  with  that,  I'm  no  packer," 

growled  Dan. 

"  I  try  that,"  said  Mose;  "  I  let  nothing  get 
away  to-day." 

"  Entrance  fee  one  dollar." 

"  Here  you  are."     Mose  tossed  a  dollar. 

"  Then  l  roping  and  holding  contest.' ' 

"  Now  you're  talking  my  business,"  ex 
claimed  Dan. 

291 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

"  There  are  others/7  said  Mose. 

Dan  turned  a  contemptuous  look  on  the 
speaker — but  changed  his  expression  as  he  met 
Mose's  eyes. 

"  Howdy,  Mose?  " 

"  So's  to  sit  a  horse,"  Mose  replied  in  a  tone 
which  cut.  He  was  not  used  to  being  patron 
ized  by  men  of  Dan's  set. 

The  crowd  perceived  the  growing  rivalry  be 
tween  the  two  men  and  winked  joyously  at  each 
other. 

At  last  all  was  arranged.  The  spectators 
were  assembled  on  the  rude  seats.  The  wind, 
sweet,  clear,  and  cool,  came  over  the  smooth 
grassy  slopes  to  the  west,  while  to  the  east,  gor 
geous  as  sunlit  marble,  rose  the  great  snowy 
peaks  with  huge  cumulus  clouds — apparently 
standing  on  edge — peeping  over  their  shoulders 
from  behind.  Mose  observed  them  and  men 
tally  calculated  that  it  would  not  shower  till 
three  in  the  afternoon. 

In  the  track  before  the  judge's  stand  six  piles 
of  "  truck,"  each  pile  precisely  like  the  others, 
lay  in  a  row.  Each  consisted  of  a  sack  of  flour, 
a  bundle  of  bacon,  a  bag  of  beans,  a  box,  a  camp 
stove,  a  pick,  a  shovel,  and  a  tent.  These  were 
to  be  packed,  covered  with  a  mantle,  and  caught 
by  "  the  diamond  hitch." 

Mose  laid  aside  hat  and  coat,  and  as  the  six 
292 


The  Eagle  Guards  the  Sheep 

pack  horses  approached,  seized  the  one  intended 
for  him.  Catching  the  saddle  blanket  up  by  the 
corners,  he  shook  it  straight,  folded  it  once, 
twice — and  threw  it  to  the  horse.  The  sawbuck 
followed  it,  the  cinch  flying  high  so  that  it 
should  go  clear.  A  tug,  a  grunt  from  the  horse, 
and  the  saddle  was  on.  Unwinding  the  sling 
ropes,  he  made  his  loops,  and  end-packed  the 
box.  Against  it  he  put  both  flour  and  beans. 
Folding  the  tent  square  he  laid  it  between.  On 
this  he  set  the  stove,  and  packing  the  smaller 
bags  around  it,  threw  on  the  mantle.  As  he  laid 
the  hitch  and  began  to  go  around  the  pack,  the 
crowd  began  to  cheer: 

"Go  it,  Mose!" 

"  He's  been  there  before." 

"  Well,  I  guess/'  said  another. 

Mose  set  his  foot  to  the  pack  and  "  pinched  " 
the  hitch  in  front.  Nothing  remained  now  but 
the  pick,  shovel,  and  coffee  can.  The  tools  he 
crowded  under  the  ropes  on  either  side,  tied  the 
cans  under  the  pack  at  the  back  and  called  Kin- 
tuck,  "  Come  on,  boy."  The  old  horse  with 
shining  eyes  drew  near.  Catching  his  mane, 
Mose  swung  to  the  saddle,  Kintuck  nipped 
the  laden  cayuse,  and  they  were  off  while 
the  next  best  man  was  still  worrying  over  the 
hitch. 

"  Nine  dollars  to  the  good  on  that  transac- 
293 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

tion,"  muttered  Mose,  as  the  marshal  handed 
him  a  ten  dollar  gold  piece. 

"  The  next  exercise  on  the  programme," 
announced  Haney,  "  will  be  the  roping  con 
test.  The  crowd  will  please  be  as  quiet  as 
possible  while  this  is  going  on.  Bring  on  your 


cows." 


Down  the  track  in  a  cloud  of  dust  came  a 
bunch  of  cattle  of  all  shapes  and  sizes.  They 
came  snuffing  and  bawling,  urged  on  by  a  band 
of  cowboys,  while  a  cordon  of  older  men  down 
the  track  stopped  and  held  them  before  the 
judge's  stand. 

"  First  exercise — '  rope  and  hold/  "  called 
the  marshal.  "  Denver  Dan  comes  first." 

Dan  spurred  into  the  arena,  his  rope  swing 
ing  gracefully  in  his  supple  up-raised  wrist. 

"  Which  one  you  want?  "  he  asked. 

"  The  line-back  yearling,"  called  Haney. 

With  careless  cast  Dan  picked  up  both  hind 
feet  of  the  calf — his  horse  set  his  hoofs  and  held 
the  bawling  brute. 

"  All  right,"  called  the  judge.  The  rope  was 
slackened  and  the  calf  leaped  up.  Dan  then 
successively  picked  up  any  foot  designated  by 
the  marshal.  "  Left  hind  foot !  Right  fore 
foot !  "  and  so  on  with  almost  unerring  accu 
racy.  His  horse,  calm  and  swift,  obeyed  every 
word  and  every  shift  of  his  rider's  body.  The 
294 


The  Eagle  Guards  the  Sheep 

crowd  cheered,  and  those  who  came  after  added 
nothing  to  the  contest. 

Mose  rode  into  the  inclosure  with  impassive 
face.  He  could  only  duplicate  the  deeds  of 
those  who  had  gone  before  so  long  as  his  work 
was  governed  by  the  marshal — but  when,  as  in 
the  case  of  others,  he  was  free  to  "  put  on  frills," 
he  did  so.  Tackling  the  heaviest  and  wildest 
steer,  he  dropped  his  rope  over  one  horn  and 
caught  up  one  foot,  then  taking  a  loose  turn 
about  his  pommel  he  spoke  to  Kintuck.  The 
steer  reached  the  end  of  the  rope  with  terrible 
force.  It  seemed  as  if  the  saddle  must  give  way 
— but  the  strain  was  cunningly  met,  and  the 
brute  tumbled  and  laid  flat  with  a  wild  bawl. 
While  Kintuck  held  him  Mose  took  a  cigar  from 
his  pocket,  bit  the  end  off,  struck  a  match  and 
puffed  carelessly  and  lazily.  It  was  an  old  trick, 
but  well  done,  and  the  spectators  cheered 
heartily. 

After  a  few  casts  of  almost  equal  brilliancy, 
Mose  leaped  to  the  ground  with  the  rope  in  his 
hand,  and  while  Kintuck  looked  on  curiously, 
he  began  a  series  of  movements  which  one  of 
Delmar's  Mexicans  had  taught  him.  With  the 
noose  spread  wide  he  kept  it  whirling  in  the  air 
as  if  it  were  a  hoop.  He  threw  it  into  the  air 
and  sprang  through  it,  he  lowered  it  to  the 
ground,  and  leaping  into  it,  flung  it  far  above 
295 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

his  head.  In  his  hand  this  inert  thing  developed 
snakelike  action.  It  took  on  loops  and  scal 
lops  and  retained  them,  apparently  in  defiance  of 
all  known  laws  of  physics — controlled  and  gov 
erned  by  the  easy,  almost  imperceptible  motions 
of  his  steel-like  wrist. 

"  Forty-five  dollars  more  to  the  good,"  said 
Mose  grimly  as  the  decision  came  in  his  favor. 

"  See  here — going  to  take  all  the  prizes?  " 
asked  one  of  the  judges. 

"  So  long  as  you  keep  to  my  line  of  business," 
replied  he. 

The  races  came  next.  Kintuck  took  first 
money  on  the  straightaway  dash,  but  lost  on  the 
long  race  around  the  pole.  It  nearly  broke  his 
heart,  but  he  came  in  second  to  Denver  Dan's 
sorrel  twice  in  succession. 

Mose  patted  the  old  horse  and  said:  "  Never 
mind,  old  boy,  you  pulled  in  forty  dollars  more 
for  me." 

Reynolds  had  tears  in  his  eyes  as  he  came  up. 

"  The  old  hoss  cain't  compete  on  the  long 
stretches.  He's  like  a  middle-aged  man — all 
right  for  a  short  dash — but  the  youngsters  have 
the  best  wind — they  get  him  on  the  mile  course." 

In  the  trained  pony  contest  the  old  horse  re 
deemed  himself.  He  knelt  at  command,  laid  out 
flat  while  Mose  crouched  behind,  and  at  the 
word  "Up!"  sprang  to  his  feet  and  waited — 
296 


The  Eagle  Guards  the  Sheep 

then  with  his  master  clinging  to  his  mane  he  ran 
in  a  circle  or  turned  to  right  or  left  at  signal.  All 
the  tricks  which  the  cavalry  had  taught  their 
horses,  Mose,  in  years  on  the  trail,  had  taught 
Kintuck.  He  galloped  on  three  legs  and 
waltzed  like  a  circus  horse.  He  seemed  to  know 
exactly  what  his  master  said  to  him. 

A  man  with  a  big  red  beard  came  up  to  Mose 
as  he  rode  off  the  track  and  said: 

"  What '11  you  take  for  that  horse?  " 

Mose  gave  him  a  savage  glance.  "  He  ain't 
for  sale." 

The  broncho-busting  contest  Mose  declined. 

"  How's  that?  "  inquired  Haney,  who  hated 
to  see  his  favorite  "  gig  back  "  at  a  point  where 
his  courage  could  be  tested. 

"  I've  busted  all  the  bronchos  for  fun  I'm  go 
ing  to,"  Mose  replied. 

Dan  called  in  a  sneering  tone:  "  Bring  on 
your  varmints.  I'm  not  dodgin'  mean  cayuses 
to-day." 

Mose  could  not  explain  that  for  Mary's  sake 
he  was  avoiding  all  danger.  There  was  risk  in 
the  contest  and  he  knew  it,  and  he  couldn't  af 
ford  to  take  it. 

"  That's  all  right !  "  he  sullenly  replied.  "  I'll 
be  with  you  later  in  the  game." 

A  wall-eyed  roan  pony,  looking  dull  and  stu 
pid,  was  led  before  the  stand.  Saddled  and 
297 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

bridled  he  stood  dozing  while  the  crowd  hooted 
with  derision. 

"  Don't  make  no  mistake!  "  shouted  Haney; 
"  he's  the  meanest  critter  on  the  upper  fork." 

A  young  lad  named  Jimmy  Kincaid  first 
tackled  the  job,  and  as  he  ran  alongside  and  tried 
the  cinch,  the  roan  dropped  an  ear  back — the  ear 
toward  Jimmy,  and  the  knowing  ones  giggled 
with  glee.  "  He's  wakin'  up!  Look  out,  Jim!  " 

The  lad  gathered  the  reins  in  his  left  hand, 
seized  the  pommel  with  his  right,  and  then  the 
roan  disclosed  his  true  nature.  He  was  an  old 
rebel.  He  did  not  waste  his  energies  on  com 
mon  means.  He  plunged  at  once  into  the  most 
complicated,  furious,  and  effective  bucking  he 
could  devise,  almost  without  moving  out  of  his 
tracks — and  when  the  boy,  stunned  and  bleeding 
at  the  nose,  sprawled  in  the  dust,  the  roan  moved 
away  a  few  steps  and  dozed,  panting  and  tense, 
apparently  neither  angry  nor  frightened. 

One  of  the  Reynolds  gang  tried  him  next 
and  "  stayed  with  him  "  till  he  threw  himself. 
When  he  arose  the  rider  failed  to  secure  his  stir 
rups  and  was  thrown  after  having  sat  the  beast 
superbly.  The  miners  were  warming  to  the  old 
roan.  Many  of  them  had  never  seen  a  pitching 
broncho  before,  and  their  delight  led  to  loud 
whoops  and  jovial  outcries. 

"  Bully  boy,  roan!     Shake  'em  off!  " 
298 


The  Eagle  Guards  the  Sheep 

Denver  Dan  tried  him  next  and  sat  him, 
haughtily  contemptuous,  till  he  stopped,  quiver 
ing  with  fatigue  and  reeking  with  sweat. 

"  Oh,  well!  "  yelled  a  big  miner,  "  that  ain't 
a  fair  shake  for  the  pony;  you  should  have  took 
him  when  he  was  fresh."  And  the  crowd  sus 
tained  him  in  it. 

"  Here  comes  one  that  is  fresh,"  called  the 
marshal,  and  into  the  arena  came  a  wicked-eyed, 
superbly-fashioned  black  roan  horse,  plainly  wild 
and  unbroken,  led  by  two  cowboys,  one  on  either 
side. 

Joe  Grassi  shook  a  handfull  of  bills  down  at 
the  crowd.  "  Here's  a  hundred  dollars  to  the 
man  who'll  set  that  pony  three  minutes  by  the 
watch." 

"  This  is  no  place  to  tackle  such  a  brute  as 
that,"  said  Reynolds. 

Mose  was  looking  straight  ahead  with  a  mus 
ing  look  in  his  eyes. 

Denver  Dan  walked  out.  "  I  need  that 
hundred  dollars;  nail  it  to  a  post  for  a  few  min 
utes,  will  ye?  " 

This  was  no  tricky  old  cow  pony,  but  a  na 
tively  vicious,  powerful,  and  cunning  young 
horse.  While  the  cowboys  held  him  Dan  threw 
off  his  coat  and  hat  and  bound  a  bandanna  over 
the  bronchos's  head  and  pulled  it  down  over  his 
eyes.  Laying  the  saddle  on  swiftly,  but  gently, 
20  299 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

he  cinched  it  strongly.  With  determined  and 
vigorous  movement,  he  thrust  the  bit  into  his 
mouth. 

"  Slack  away!  "  he  called  to  the  ropers.  The 
horse,  nearly  dead  for  lack  of  breath,  drew  a  deep 
sigh. 

Haney  called  out :  "  Stand  clear,  everybody, 
clear  the  road!" 

And  casting  one  rope  to  the  ground,  Dan 
swung  into  the  saddle. 

For  just  an  instant  the  horse  crouched  low 
and  waited — then  shot  into  the  air  with  a  tiger 
ish  bound  and  fell  stiff-legged.  Again  and  again 
he  flung  his  head  down,  humped  his  back,  and 
sprang  into  the  air  grunting  and  squealing  with 
rage  and  fear.  Dan  sat  him,  but  the  punishment 
made  him  swear.  Suddenly  the  horse  dropped 
and  rolled,  hoping  to  catch  his  rider  unawares. 
Dan  escaped  by  stepping  to  the  ground,  but  he 
was  white,  and  the  blood  was  oozing  slowly  from 
his  nose.  As  the  brute  arose,  Dan  was  in  the 
saddle.  With  two  or  three  tremendous  bounds, 
the  horse  flung  himself  into  the  air  like  a  high- 
vaulting  acrobat,  landing  so  near  the  fence  that 
Dan,  swerving  far  to  the  left,  was  unseated,  and 
sprawled  low  in  the  dust  while  the  squealing 
broncho  went  down  the  track  bucking  and  lash 
ing  out  with  undiminished  vigor. 

Dan  staggered  to  his  feet,  stunned  and  bleed- 
300 


The  Eagle  Guards  the  Sheep 

ing.  He  swore  most  terrible  oaths  that  he  would 
ride  that  wall-eyed  brute  if  it  took  a  year. 

"  You've  had  your  turn.  It  was  a  fair  fight," 
called  Kelly. 

"  Who's  the  next  ambitious  man?  "  shouted 
Haney. 

"  I  don't  want  no  truck  with  that,"  said  the 
cowboys  among  themselves. 

"  Not  in  a  place  like  this,"  said  Jimmy.  "  A 
feller's  liable  to  get  mashed  agin  a  fence." 

Mose  stood  with  hands  gripping  a  post,  his 
eyes  thoughtful.  Suddenly  he  threw  off  his 
coat. 

"  I'll  try  him,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  you'd  better;  it'll  bung 
you  all  up,"  cautioned  Reynolds. 

Mose  said  in  a  low  voice:  "  I'm  good  for  him, 
and  I  need  that  money." 

"  Let  him  breathe  awhile,"  called  the  crowd 
as  the  broncho  was  brought  back,  lariated  as 
before.  "  Give  him  a  show  for  his  life." 

Mose  muttered  to  Reynolds:  "  He's  due  to 
bolt,  and  I'm  going  to  quirt  him  a-plenty." 

The  spectators,  tense  with  joy,  filled  the  air 
with  advice  and  warning.  "  Don't  let  him  get 
started.  Keep  him  away  from  the  fence." 

Mose  wore  a  set  and  serious  look  as  he  ap 
proached  the  frenzied  beast.  There  was  danger 
in  this  trick — a  broken  leg  or  collar  bone  might 
3QX 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

make  his  foolhardiness  costly.  In  his  mind's  eye 
he  could  foresee  the  broncho's  action.  He  had 
escaped  down  the  track  once,  and  would  do  the 
same  again  after  a  few  desperate  bounds — never 
theless  Mose  dreaded  the  terrible  concussion  of 
those  stiff-legged  leapings. 

Standing  beside  the  animal's  shoulder  he 
slipped  off  the  ropes  and  swung  to  the  saddle. 
The  beast  went  off  as  before,  with  three  or  four 
terrible  buck  jumps,  but  Mose  plied  the  quirt 
with  wild  shouting,  and  suddenly,  abandoning 
his  pitching,  the  horse  set  off  at  a  tearing  pace 
around  the  track.  For  nearly  half  way  he  ran 
steadily — then  began  once  more  to  hump  his 
back  and  leap  into  the  air. 

"  He's  down!  "  yelled  some  one. 

"  No,  he's  up  again — and  Mose  is  there," 
said  Haney. 

The  crowd,  not  to  be  cheated  of  their  fun, 
raced  across  the  oval  where  the  battle  was  still 
going  on. 

The  princess  was  white  with  anxiety  and  or 
dered  her  coachman  to  "  Get  there  quick  as 
God'll  let  ye."  When  she  came  in  sight  the 
horse  was  tearing  at  Mose's  foot  with  his  teeth. 

"  Time's  up!  "  called  Haney. 

"  Make  it  ten,"  said  Mose,  whose  blood 
was  hot. 

The  beast  dropped  and  rolled,  but  arose 
302 


The  Eagle  Guards  the  Sheep 

again  under  the  sting  of  the  quirt  and  renewed 
his  frenzied  attack.  As  Mose  roweled  him  he 
kicked  with  both  hind  feet  as  if  to  tear  the  cinch 
from  his  belly.  He  reared  on  his  toes  and  fell 
backward.  He  rushed  with  ferocious  cunning 
against  the  corral,  forcing  his  rider  to  stand  in 
the  opposite  stirrup,  then  bucked,  keeping  so 
close  to  the  fence  that  Mose  was  forced  to  hang 
to  his  mane  and  fight  him  from  tearing  his  flesh 
with  his  savage  teeth.  Twice  he  went  down  and 
rolled  over,  but  when  he  arose  Mose  was  on  his 
back.  Twice  he  flung  himself  to  the  earth,  and 
the  second  time  he  broke  the  bridle  rein,  but 
Mose,  catching  one  piece,  kept  his  head  up  while 
he  roweled  him  till  the  blood  dripped  in  the  dust. 

At  last,  after  fifteen  minutes  of  struggle,  the 
broncho  again  made  off  around  the  track  at  a 
rapid  run.  As  he  came  opposite  the  judge's 
stand  Mose  swung  him  around  in  a  circle  and 
leaped  to  the  ground,  leaving  the  horse  to  gallop 
down  the  track.  Dusty,  and  quivering  with  fa 
tigue,  Mose  walked  across  the  track  and  took  up 
his  coat. 

"  You  earned  your  money,  Mose,"  said 
Grassi,  as  he  handed  out  the  roll  of  bills. 

"  I'll  think  so  to-morrow  morning,  I  reckon," 
replied  Mose,  and  his  walk  showed  dizziness  and 
weakness. 

"  You've  had  the  easy  end  of  it,"  said  Dan. 
303 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

'  You  should  have  took  him  when  I  did,  when 
he  was  fresh." 

"  You  didn't  stay  on  him  long  enough  to 
weaken  him  any,"  said  Mose  in  offensive  reply, 
and  Dan  did  not  care  to  push  the  controversy 
any  further. 

"  That  spoils  my  shooting  now,"  Mose  said 
to  Haney.  "  I  couldn't  hit  the  side  of  a  mule." 

"  Oh,  you'll  stiddy  up  after  dinner." 

"  Good  boy!  "  called  the  crisp  voice  of  Mrs. 
Raimon.  "  Come  here,  I  want  to  talk  with 
you." 

He  could  not  decently  refuse  to  go  to  the 
side  of  her  carriage.  She  had  with  her  a  plain 
woman,  slightly  younger  than  herself,  who 
passed  for  her  niece.  The  two  men  who  came 
with  them  were  in  the  judge's  stand. 

Leaning  over,  she  spoke  with  sudden  inten 
sity.  "  My  God!  you  mustn't  take  such  risks — 
I'm  all  of  a  quiver.  You're  too  good  a  man  to 
be  killed  by  a  miserable  bucking  broncho. 
Don't  do  it  again,  for  my  sake — if  that  don't 
count,  for  her  sake." 

And  he  in  sudden  joy  and  confidence  replied: 
"  That's  just  why  I  did  it;  for  her  sake." 

Her  eyes  set  in  sudden  alarm.  "  What  do 
you  mean?  " 

"  You'll  know  in  a  day  or  two.  I'm  going 
to  quit  my  job." 

304 


The  Eagle  Guards  the  Sheep 

"  I  know,"  she  said  with  a  quick  indrawn 
breath,  "  you're  going  away.  Who's  that  girl  I 
saw  you  talking  with  to-day?  Is  that  the  one?  " 

He  laughed  at  her  for  the  first  time.  "  Not 
by  a  thousand  miles." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that?  Does  she  live 
in  Chicago?  " 

He  ceased  to  laugh  and  grew  a  little  darker 
of  brow,  and  she  quietly  added:  "  That's  none  o' 
my  business,  you'd  like  to  say.  All  right — say 
it  isn't.  But  won't  you  get  in  and  go  down  to 
dinner  with  me?  I  want  to  honor  the  champion 
— the  Ivanhoe  of  the  tournament." 

He  shook  his  head.  "  No,  I've  promised  to 
picnic  with  some  old  friends  of  mine." 

"  That  girl  over  there?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  just  as  you  say,  but  you  must  eat  with 
me  to-night,  will  you?  Come  now,  what  do  you 
say?" 

With  a  half  promise  Mose  walked  away  to 
ward  the  Reynolds'  carriage — not  without  re 
gret,  for  there  was  charm  in  the  princess,  both  in 
her  own  handsome  person  and  because  she  sug 
gested  a  singular  world  of  which  he  knew  noth 
ing.  She  allured  and  repelled  at  the  same  time. 

Beside  the  buggy  Cora  and  Mrs.  Reynolds 
had  spread  a  substantial  lunch,  and  in  such  hum 
ble  company  the  victor  of  the  tournament  ate  his 
305 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

dinner,  while  Dan  and  the  rest  galloped  off  to  a 
saloon. 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  can  do  with  the  gun," 
he  said  in  reply  to  a  question  from  Cora.  "  My 
nerves  are  still  on  the  jump;  I  guess  I'll  keep  out 
of  the  contest — it  would  hurt  my  reputation  to 
miss."  He  turned  to  Reynolds:  "  Capt'n,  I 
want  you  to  get  me  a  chance  to  punch  cattle  on 
a  car  down  to  Chicago." 

Reynolds  looked  surprised.  "  What  fur  do 
you  want  to  go  to  Chicago,  Mose?  I  never 
have  knew  you  to  mention  hit  befo'." 

Mose  felt  his  skin  growing  red.  "  Well,  I 
just  thought  I'd  like  to  take  a  turn  in  the  States 
and  see  the  elephant." 

'  You'll  see  the  hull  circus  if  you  go  to 
Chicago,"  said  Mrs.  Reynolds.  "  They  say  it's 
a  terrible  wicked  place." 

"  I  don't  suppose  it's  any  worse  than  Wagon 
Wheel,  ma,"  said  Cora. 

'  Yes,  but  it's  so  much  bigger." 

"  Well,  mother,"  said  Reynolds,  "  a  bear  is 
bigger  than  a  ho'net,  but  the  ho'net  can  give  him 
points  and  beat  him,  suah  thing." 

Mose  was  rather  glad  of  this  diversion,  for 
when  Reynolds  spoke  again  it  was  to  say:  "  I 
reckon  I  can  fix  it  for  you.  When  do  you 
want  it?" 

"  Right  off,  this  week." 
306 


The  Eagle  Guards  the  Sheep 

"  Be  gone  long?  " 

Cora  waited  anxiously  for  his  answer,  and  his 
hesitation  and  uncertainty  of  tone  made  her 
heart  grow  heavy. 

"  Oh,  no — only  a  short  trip,  I  reckon.  Got 
to  get  back  before  my  money  gives  out." 

He  did  not  intend  to  enter  the  revolver  con 
test,  but  it  offered  so  easy  to  his  hand  that  he 
went  in  and  won  hands  down.  His  arm  was 
lame,  but  his  nerves,  not  fevered  by  whisky, 
swiftly  recovered  tone.  He  was  careful,  how 
ever,  not  to  go  beyond  the  limits  of  the  contest 
as  he  should  have  done  had  his  arm  possessed  all 
of  its  proper  cunning.  He  had  no  real  competi 
tor  but  Dan,  who  had  been  drinking  steadily  all 
day  and  was  unfitted  for  his  work.  Mose  lost 
nothing  in  the  trial. 

That  night  he  put  into  his  pocket  one  hun 
dred  and  twenty  dollars  as  the  result  of  his  day's 
work,  and  immediately  asked  to  be  released  of 
his  duties  as  guard. 

The  manager  of  the  Express  Company  said: 
"  I'm  sorry  you're  leaving  us,  and  I  hope  you'll 
return  to  us  soon.  I'll  hold  the  place  open  for 
you,  if  you  say  so." 

This  Mose  refused.  "I  don't  like  it,"  he 
said.  "  I  don't  think  I  earn  the  money.  Hire 
a  good  driver  and  he'll  have  no  trouble.  You 
don't  need  me." 

307 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

Mindful  of  his  promise  to  eat  dinner  with  the 
princess,  he  said  to  Reynolds:  "  Don't  wait  for 
me.  Go  on — I'll  overtake  you  at  Twelve  Mile 
Creek." 

The  princess  had  not  lost  sight  of  him  for  a 
single  moment,  and  the  instant  he  departed  from 
his  friends  she  drove  up.  "  You  are  to  come  to 
my  house  to-night,  remember." 

"  I  must  overtake  my  folks;  I  can't  stay 
long,"  he  said  lamely. 

Her  power  was  augmented  by  her  home. 
He  had  expected  pictures  and  fine  carpets  and  a 
piano  and  they  were  there,  but  there  was  a  great 
deal  more.  He  perceived  a  richness  of  effect 
which  he  could  not  have  formulated  better  than 
to  say,  "  It  was  all  fine."  He  had  expected 
things  to  be  costly  and  gay  of  color,  but  this 
mysterious  fitness  of  everything  was  a  marvel  to 
one  like  himself,  used  only  to  the  meager  orna 
ments  of  the  homes  in  Rock  River,  or  the 
threadbare  poverty  of  the  ranches  and  the 
squalid  hotels  of  the  cow  country.  The  house 
was  a  large  new  frame  building,  not  so  much  dif 
ferent  from  other  houses  with  respect  to  exte 
rior,  but  as  he  entered  the  door  he  took  off  his 
hat  to  it  as  he  used  to  do  as  a  lad  in  the  home  of 
Banker  Brooks,  deacon  in  his  father's  church. 

His  was  a  sensitive  soul,  eye  and  ear  were 
both  acute.  He  perceived,  without  accounting 
308 


The  Eagle  Guards  the  Sheep 

for  it,  that  the  walls  and  hangings  were  comple 
mentary  in  color,  that  the  furniture  matched  the 
carpet,  and  that  the  pictures  on  the  wall  were 
unusually  good.  They  were  not  all  highly- 
colored,  naked  subjects,  as  he  had  been  led  to 
expect.  His  respect  for  Mrs.  Raimon  rose,  for 
he  remembered  that  Mary's  home,  while  just  as 
different  from  this  as  Mary  was  different  from 
Mrs.  Raimon,  had,  after  all,  something  in  com 
mon  —  both  were  beautiful  to  him,  though 
Mary's  home  was  sweeter,  daintier,  and  home 
lier.  He  was  in  the  midst  of  an  analysis  of  these 
subtleties  when  Mrs.  Raimon  (as  he  now  deter 
mined  to  call  her)  returned  from  changing  her 
dress. 

He  was  amazed  at  the  change  in  her.  She 
wore  a  dark  gray  gown  with  almost  no  orna 
ment,  and  looked  smaller,  older,  and  paler,  but 
incomparably  more  winning  and  womanly  than 
she  had  ever  seemed  before.  She  appeared 
to  be  serious  and  her  voice  was  gentle  and 
winning. 

"  Well,  boy,  here  you  are — under  my  roof. 
Not  such  an  awful  den  after  all,  is  it?  "  she  said 
with  a  smile. 

"  Beats  a  holler  log  in  a  snowstorm,"  he  re 
plied,  looking  about  the  room.  "  Must  have 
shipped  all  this  truck  from  the  States,  it  never 
was  built  out  here — it  would  take  me  a  couple 
309 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

of  months  to  earn  a  whole  outfit  like  this, 
wouldn't  it?" 

She  remained  serious.  "  Mose,  I  want  to 
tell  you " 

"Wait  a  minute,"  he  interrupted;  "let's 
start  fair.  My  name  is  Harold  Excell,  and  I'm 
going  to  call  you  Mrs.  Raimon." 

She  thrust  out  her  hand.  "Good  boy!" 
He  could  see  she  was  profoundly  pleased.  In 
deed  she  could  not  at  once  resume.  At  last  she 
said:  "  I  was  going  to  say,  Harold,  that  you 
can't  earn  a  home  trailin'  around  over  these 
mountains  year  after  year  with  a  band  of  In 
dians." 

He  became  thoughtful.  "  I  reckon  you're 
right  about  that.  I'm  wasting  time;  I've  got 
to  picket  old  Kintuck  somewhere  and  go  to 
work  if  I " 

He  stopped  abruptly  and  she  smiled  mourn 
fully.  "You  needn't  hesitate;  tell  me  all 
about  it." 

He  sat  in  silence — a  silence  that  at  last  be 
came  a  rebuke.  She  arose.  "  Well,  suppose  we 
go  out  to  supper;  we  can  talk  all  the  better 
there." 

He  felt  out  of  place  and  self-conscious,  but 

he  gave  little  outward  sign  of  it  as  he  took  his 

seat  at  the  table  opposite  her.     For  reasons  of 

her  own  she  emphasized  the  domestic  side  of  her 

310 


The  Eagle  Guards  the  Sheep 

life  and  fairly  awed  the  stern  youth  by  her  wom 
anly  dignity  and  grace.  The  little  table  was  set 
for  two,  with  pretty  dishes.  Liquor  had  no 
place  on  the  cover,  but  a  shining  tea-pot, 
brought  in  by  a  smiling  negress,  was  placed  at 
her  right  hand.  Her  talk  for  a  time  was  of  the 
tea,  the  food,  his  taste  as  to  sugar  and  other 
things  pertaining  to  her  duties  as  hostess.  All 
his  lurid  imaginings  of  her  faded  into  the  wind, 
and  a  thousand  new  and  old  conceptions  of  wife 
and  home  and  peaceful  middle  age  came  throng 
ing  like  sober-colored  birds.  If  she  were  playing 
a  game  it  was  well  done  and  successful.  Mose 
fell  often  into  silence  and  deep  thought. 

She  respected  his  introspection,  and  busy 
ing  herself  with  the  service  and  with  low- 
voiced  orders  to  the  waitress,  left  him  free 
for  a  time. 

Suddenly  she  turned.  "  You  mustn't  judge 
me  by  what  people  say  outside.  Judge  me  by 
what  I  am  to  you.  I  don't  claim  to  be  a  Sun 
day-school  teacher,  but  I  average  up  pretty  well, 
after  all.  I  appear  to  a  disadvantage.  When 
Raimon  died  I  took  hold  of  his  business  out  here 
and  I've  made  it  pay.  I  have  a  talent  for  busi 
ness,  and  I  like  it.  I've  got  enough  to  be  silly 
with  if  I  want  to,  but  I  intend  to  take  care  of 
myself — and  I  may  even  marry  again.  I  can  see 
you're  deeply  involved  in  a  love  affair,  Mose, 


The  Eagles  Heart 

and  I  honestly  want  to  help  you — but  I  shan't 
say  another  word  about  it  —  only  remember, 
when  you  need  help  you  come  to  Martha  Jane 
Williams  Raimon.  How  is  that  for  a  name? 
It's  mine;  my  father  was  Lawrence  Todd  Wil 
liams,  Professor  of  Paleontology  at  Blank  Col 
lege.  Raimon  was  an  actor  of  the  tenth  rate — 
the  kind  that  play  leading  business  in  the  candle 
stick  circuit.  Naturally  Doctor  Todd  objected 
to  an  actor  as  a  son-in-law.  I  eloped.  Launt 
was  a  good  fellow,  and  we  had  a  happy  honey 
moon,  but  he  lost  his  health  and  came  out  here 
and  invested  in  a  mine.  That  brought  me.  I 
was  always  lucky,  and  we  struck  it — but  the 
poor  fellow  didn't  live  long  enough  to  enjoy  it. 
You  know  all,"  she  ended  with  a  curious  forced 
lightness  of  utterance. 

After  another  characteristic  silence,  Mose 
said  slowly:  "Anyhow,  I  want  you  to  under 
stand  that  I'm  much  obliged  for  your  good  will; 
I'm  not  worth  a  cuss  at  putting  things  in  a 
smooth  way;  I  think  I'm  getting  worse  every 
day,  but  you've  been  my  friend,  and — and  there's 
no  discount  on  my  words  when  I  tell  you  you've 
made  me  feel  ashamed  of  myself  to-day.  From 
this  time  on,  I  take  no  other  man's  judgment  of 
a  woman.  You  know  my  life — all  there  is  that 
would  interest  you.  I  don't  know  how  to  talk 
to  a  woman — any  kind  of  a  woman — but  np 
313 


The  Eagle  Guards  the  Sheep 

matter  what  I  say,  I  don't  mean  to  do  anybody 
any  harm.  I'm  getting  a  good  deal  like  an  In 
dian — I  talk  to  make  known  what's  on  my  mind. 
Since  I  was  seventeen  years  of  age  I've  let  girls 
pretty  well  alone.  The  kind  I  meet  alongside 
the  trail  don't  interest  me.  When  I  was  a  boy  I 
was  glib  enough,  but  I  know  a  whole  lot  less 
now  than  I  did  then — that  is  about  some  things. 
What  I  started  to  say  is  this:  I'm  mighty  much 
obliged  for  what  you've  done  for  me  here — but 
I'm  going  to  pull  out  to-night " 

"  Not  for  good?  "  she  said. 

"  Well — that's  beyond  me.  All  I  know  is  I 
hit  the  longest  and  wildest  trail  I  ever  entered. 
Where  it  comes  out  at  I  don't  know.  But  I 
shan't  forget  you;  you've  been  a  good  friend 
to  me." 

Her  voice  faltered  a  little  as  she  said:  "I 
wish  you'd  write  to  me  and  let  me  know  how 
you  are?  " 

"  Oh,  don't  expect  that  of  me.  I  chew  my 
tongue  like  a  ten-year-old  kid  when  I  write.  I 
never  was  any  good  at  it,  and  I'm  clear  out  of  it 
now.  The  chances  are  I'll  round  up  in  the 
mountains  again;  I  can't  see  how  I'd  make  a  liv 
ing  anywhere  else.  If  I  come  back  this  way  I'll 
let  you  know." 

Neither  of  them  was  eating  now,  and  the  ten 
sion  was  great.  She  knew  that  no  artifice  could 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

keep  him,  and  he  was  aware  of  her  emotion  and 
was  eager  to  escape. 

He  pushed  back  his  chair  at  last,  and  she 
arose  and  came  toward  him  and  took  his  hand, 
standing  so  close  to  him  that  her  bosom  almost 
touched  his  shoulder. 

"  I  hate  to  see  you  go! "  she  said,  and  the 
passionate  tremor  in  her  voice  moved  him  very 
deeply.  "  You've  brought  back  my  interest 
in  simple  things — and  life  seems  worth  while 
when  I'm  with  you." 

He  shook  her  hand  and  then  dropped  it. 
"  Well,  so  long." 

"  So  long!  "  she  said,  and  added,  with  an 
other  attempt  at  brightness,  "  and  don't  stay 
away  too  long,  and  don't  fail  to  let  me  know 
when  you  make  the  circuit." 

As  he  mounted  his  horse  he  remembered  that 
there  was  another  good-by  to  speak,  and  that 
was  to  Cora. 

"  I  wish  these  women  would  let  a  man  go 
without  saying  good-by  at  all,"  he  thought  in 
irritation,  but  the  patter  of  Kintuck's  feet  set  his 
thought  in  other  directions.  As  he  topped  the 
divide,  he  drew  rein  and  looked  at  the  great 
range  to  the  southeast,  lit  by  the  dull  red  light  of 
the  sun,  which  had  long  since  set  to  the  settlers 
in  the  valley.  His  heart  was  for  a  moment  di 
vided.  The  joys  of  the  trail — the  care-free  life — 
3H 


The  Eagle  Guards  the  Sheep 

perhaps  after  all  the  family  life  was  not  for  him. 
Perhaps  he  was  chasing  a  mirage.  He  was  on 
the  divide  of  his  life.  On  one  side  were  the 
mountains,  the  camps,  the  cattle,  the  wild  ani 
mals — on  the  other  the  plains,  the  cities,  and 
Mary. 

The  thought  of  Mary  went  deep.  It  took 
hold  of  the  foundations  of  his  thinking  and  de 
cided  him.  Shuddering  with  the  pain  and  des 
pair  of  his  love  he  lifted  rein  and  rode  down  into 
the  deep  shadow  of  the  long  canon  through 
which  roared  the  swift  waters  of  the  North  Fork 
on  their  long  journey  to  the  east  and  south. 
Thereafter  he  had  no  uncertainties.  Like  the 
water  of  the  canon  he  had  but  to  go  downward 
to  the  plain. 


21 


315 


CHAPTER   XIX 

THE   EAGLE   ADVENTURES   INTO    STRANGE    LANDS 

IT  can  not  be  said  that  the  Black  Eagle  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains  approached  civilization  in 
any  heroic  disguise.  At  its  best,  accompanying 
a  cattle  train  is  not  epic  in  its  largeness.  To 
prod  cattle  by  means  of  a  long  pole,  to  pull  out 
smothered  sheep,  are  not  in  themselves  degrad 
ing  deeds,  but  they  are  not  picturesque  in  qual 
ity.  They  smell  of  the  shambles,  not  of  the  hills. 

Day  by  day  the  train  slid  down  the  shining 
threads  of  track  like  a  long  string  of  rectangular 
green  and  brown  and  yellow  beads.  The  ca 
boose  was  filled  with  cattlemen  and  their  assist 
ants,  who  smoked,  talked  politics,  told  stories, 
and  slept  at  all  hours  of  the  day,  whenever  a 
spare  segment  of  bench  offered.  Those  who 
were  awake  saw  everything  and  commented  on 
everything  in  sight.  To  some  the  main  ques 
tions  were  when  and  where  they  were  to  get 
dinner  or  secure  a  drink.  The  train,  being  a 
"  through  freight,"  ran  almost  as  steadily  as  a 
passenger  train,  and  the  thirsty  souls  became 
316 


He  Adventures  into  Strange  Lands 

quite  depressed  or  savage  at  times  by  lack  of  op 
portunities  to  "  wet  their  whistles." 

Mose  was  singularly  silent,  for  he  was  reliv 
ing  his  boyish  life  on  the  plains  and  noting  the 
changes  which  had  taken  place.  The  towns  had 
grown  gray  with  the  bleach  of  the  weather. 
Farms  had  multiplied  and  fences  cut  the  range 
into  pasture  lands.  As  the  mountains  sank  be 
neath  the  level  horizon  line  his  heart  sank  with 
them.  Every  hour  of  travel  to  the  East  was  to 
him  dangerous,  disheartening.  On  the  second 
day  he  was  ready  to  leap  from  the  caboose  and 
wave  it  good-by;  but  he  did  not — he  merely  sat 
on  the  back  platform  and  watched  the  track. 
He  felt  as  if  he  were  in  one  of  those  aerial 
buckets  which  descend  like  eagles  from  the 
mines  in  the  Marshall  Basin;  the  engine  ap 
peared  to  proceed  eastward  of  its  own  weight, 
impossible  to  check  or  turn  back. 

The  uncertainty  of  finding  Mary  in  the  mil 
lions  of  the  city  weakened  his  resolution,  but  as 
he  was  aboard,  and  as  the  train  slid  while  he  pon 
dered,  descending,  remorselessly,  he  determined 
to  "  stay  with  it  "  as  he  would  with  a  bucking 
broncho. 

Kansas  City  with  its  big  depot  sheds  filled 
with  clangor  and  swarming  with  emigrants  gave 
him  a  foretaste  of  Chicago.  Two  of  his  com 
panions  proceeded  to  get  drunk  and  became  so 
317 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

offensive  that  he  was  forced  to  cuff  them  into 
quiet.  This  depressed  him  also — he  had  no 
other  defense  but  his  hands.  His  revolvers  were 
put  away  in  his  valise  where  they  could  not  be 
reached  in  a  hurry.  Reynolds  had  said  to  him, 
"  Now,  Mose,  you're  going  into  a  country  where 
they  settle  things  with  fists,  so  leave  your  guns 
at  home.  Keep  cool  and  don't  mix  in  where 
there's  no  call  to  mix  in.  If  a  man  gives  you  lip 
— walk  off  and  leave  him — don't  hunt  your 
guns." 

Mose  had  also  purchased  a  "  hard  "  hat  and 
shaved  off  his  mustache  in  Canon  City,  and  Rey 
nolds  himself  would  not  have  known  him  as  he 
sauntered  about  the  station  room.  Every  time 
he  lifted  his  fingers  to  his  mustache  he  experi 
enced  a  shock,  and  coming  before  a  big  mirror 
over  the  fireplace  he  stared  with  amazement — 
so  boyish  and  so  sorrowful  did  he  appear  to  him 
self.  It  seemed  as  though  he  were  playing  a 
part. 

As  the  train  drew  out  of  the  town,  night  was 
falling  and  the  East  grew  mysterious  as  the 
thitherward  side  of  the  river  of  death.  Familiar 
things  were  being  left  behind.  Uncertainties 
thickened  like  the  darkness.  All  night  long  the 
engine  hooted  and  howled  and  jarred  along 
through  the  deep  darkness,  and  every  time  the 
train  stopped  the  cattle  and  sheep  were  in- 


He  Adventures  into  Strange  Lands 

spected.  Lanterns  held  aloft  disclosed  cattle  be 
ing  trampled  to  death  and  sheep  smothering. 
Wild  shouting,  oaths,  broke  forth  accompanied 
by  thumpings,  and  the  rumbling  and  creaking  of 
cars  as  the  cattle  surged  to  and  fro,  and  at  the 
end,  circles  of  fire — lanterns  signaling  "  Go 
ahead  " — caused  a  wild  rush  for  the  caboose. 

Morning  brought  to  light  a  land  of  small 
farms,  with  cattle  in  minute  pastures,  surround 
ed  by  stacks  of  hay  and  grain,  plowed  fields, 
threshing  crews,  and  teams  plodding  to  and  fro 
on  dusty  roads.  The  plainsman  was  gone,  the 
prairie  farmer  filled  the  landscape.  Towns  thick 
ened  and  grew  larger.  At  noon  the  freight  lay 
at  a  siding  to  let  the  express  trains  come  in  at  a 
populous  city,  and  in  the  wait  Mose  found  time 
to  pace  the  platform.  The  people  were  better 
dressed,  the  cowboy  hat  was  absent,  and  nearly 
everybody  wore  not  merely  a  coat  but  a  vest  and 
linen  collar.  Some  lovely  girls  looking  crisp  as 
columbines  or  plains'  poppies  looked  at  him 
from  the  doors  of  the  parlor  cars.  They  sug 
gested  Mary  to  him,  of  course,  and  made  him 
realize  how  far  he  was  getting  from  the  range. 

These  dainty  girls  looked  and  acted  like  some 
of  those  he  had  seen  in  Canon  City  and  the 
Springs.  They  walked  with  the  same  step  and 
held  their  dresses  the  same  way.  That  must  be 
the  fashion,  he  thought.  The  men  of  the  town 
319 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

were  less  solemn  than  plainsmen,  they  smiled 
oftener  and  they  joked  more  easily.  Mose  won 
dered  how  so  many  of  them  made  a  living  in  one 
place.  He  heard  one  girl  say  to  another,  "  Yes 
— but  he's  awful  sad  looking,  don't  you  think 
so?  "  and  it  was  some  minutes  before  he  began 
to  understand  that  they  were  talking  about  him. 
Then  he  wished  he  knew  what  else  they  had  said. 

There  was  little  chance  to  see  the  towns  for 
the  train  whirled  through  them  with  furious 
jangle  of  bell  and  whiz  of  steam — or  else  drew 
up  in  the  freight  yard  a  long  way  out  from  the 
station.  When  night  fell  on  this,  the  third  day, 
they  were  nearing  the  Great  River  and  all  the 
cattlemen  were  lamenting  the  fact.  Those  who 
had  been  over  the  line  before  said: 

"Too  bad,  fellers!  You'd  ought  to  see  the 
Mississippi,  she's  a  loo-loo.  The  bridge,  too,  is 
worth  seein'." 

During  the  evening  there  was  a  serious  talk 
about  hotels  and  the  amusements  to  be  had. 
One  faction,  led  by  McCleary,  of  Currant  Creek, 
stood  for  the  "  Drovers'  Home."  "  It's  right 
out  near  the  stockyards  an'  it's  a  good  place. 
Dollar  a  day  covers  everything,  unless  you  want 
a  big  room,  which  is  a  quarter  extra.  Grub  is 
all  right — and  some  darn  nice  girls  waitin'  on 
the  table,  too." 

But  Thompson  who  owned  the  sheep  was 
320 


He  Adventures  into  Strange  Lands 

contemptuous.  "  I  want  to  be  in  town;  I  don't 
go  to  Chicago  to  live  out  in  the  stockyards;  I 
want  to  be  where  things  go  by.  I  ante  my  valise 
at  the  Grand  Palace  or  the  New  Merchants';  the 
best  is  good  enough  for  me." 

McCleary  looked  a  little  put  down.  "  Well, 
that's  all  right  for  a  man  who  can  afford  it.  I've 
got  a  big  family  and  I  wouldn't  feel  right  to  be 
blowing  in  two  or  three  dollars  a  day  just  for 
style." 

"  Wherever  the  girls  are  thickest,  there's 
where  you'll  find  me,"  said  one  of  the  young 
fellows. 

"  That's  me,"  said  another. 

Thompson  smiled  with  a  superior  air.  "  You 
fellers'll  bring  up  down  on  South  Clark  Street 
before  you  end.  Some  choice  dive  on  the  levee 
is  gappin'  for  you.  Now,  mind  you,  I  won't 
bail  you  out.  You  go  into  the  game  with  your 
eyes  open,"  he  said,  and  his  banter  was  highly 
pleasing  to  the  accused  ones. 

McCleary  turned  to  Harold,  whom  he  knew 
only  as  "  Hank,"  and  said: 

"Hank,  you  ain't  sayin'  a  word;  what're 
your  plans?  " 

"  I'll  stay  with  you  as  long  as  you  need  me." 

"  All  right;  I'll  take  care  o'  you  then." 

Night  fell  before  they  came  in  sight  of  the 
city.  They  were  woefully  behindhand  and 
321 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

everything  delayed  them.  After  a  hundred 
hesitations  succeeded  by  fierce  forward  dashes, 
after  switching  this  way  and  that,  they  came  to 
a  final  halt  in  a  jungle  of  freight  cars,  a  chaos  of 
mysterious  activities,  and  a  dense,  hot,  steaming 
atmosphere  that  oppressed  and  sickened  the  men 
from  the  mountains.  Lanterns  sparkled  and 
looped  and  circled,  and  fierce  cries  arose.  En 
gines  snorted  in  sullen  labor,  charging  to  and 
fro,  aimlessly  it  appeared.  And  all  around  cat 
tle  were  bawling,  sheep  were  pleading  for  re 
lease,  and  swine  lifted  their  piercing  protests 
against  imprisonment. 

"  Here  we  are,  in  Chicago!  "  said  McCleary, 
who  always  entered  the  city  on  that  side. 
"  Now,  fellers,  watch  out  for  yourselves.  Keep 
your  hands  on  your  wallets  and  don't  blow  out 
the  electric  light." 

"  Oh,  you  go  to  hell,"  was  their  jocular  reply. 

"  We're  no  spring  chickens." 

"  You  go  up  against  this  town,  my  boys,  and 
you'll  think  you're  just  out  o'  the  shell." 

Mose  said  nothing.  He  had  the  indifferent 
air  of  a  man  who  had  been  often  to  the  great 
metropolis  and  knew  exactly  what  he  wished 
to  do. 

It  was  after  twelve  o'clock  when  the  crowd 
of  noisy  cattlemen  tramped  into  the  Drovers' 
Home,  glad  of  a  safe  ending  of  their  trip.  They 
322 


He  Adventures  into  Strange  Lands 

were  all  boisterous  and  all  of  them  were  liquor- 
ous  except  Harold,  who  drank  little  and  re 
mained  silent  and  uncommunicative.  He  had 
been  most  efficient  in  all  ways  and  McCleary  was 
grateful  and  filled  with  admiration  of  him.  He 
had  taken  him  without  knowing  who  he  was, 
merely  because  Reynolds  requested  it,  but  he 
now  said : 

"  Hank,  you're  a  jim-dandy;  I  want  you. 
When  you've  had  your  spree  here,  you  come 
back  with  me  and  I'll  do  the  right  thing  by  ye." 

Harold  thanked  him  in  offhand  phrase  and 
went  early  to  bed. 

He  had  not  slept  in  a  hotel  bed  since  the 
night  in  Marmion  when  Jack  was  with  him,  and 
the  wonderful  charm  and  mystery  and  passion  of 
those  two  days,  so  intimately  wrought  in  with 
passionate  memories  of  Mary,  came  back  upon 
him  now,  keeping  him  awake  till  nearly  dawn. 
He  arose  late  and  yet  found  only  McCleary  at 
breakfast;  the  other  men  had  remained  so  long 
in  the  barroom  that  sleep  and  drunkenness  came 
together. 

After  breakfast  Harold  wandered  out  into 
the  street.  To  his  left  a  hundred  towers  of  dull 
gray  smoke  rose,  and  prodigious  buildings  set  in 
empty  spaces  were  like  the  cliffs  of  red  stone  in 
the  Quirino.  Beyond,  great  roofs  thickened  in 
the  haze,  farther  on  in  that  way  lay  Chicago,  and 
323 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

somewhere  in  that  welter,  that  tumult,  that  ter 
ror  of  the  unknown,  lived  Mary. 

With  McCleary  he  took  a  car  that  galloped 
like  a  broncho,  and  started  for  the  very  heart  of 
the  mystery.  As  the  crowds  thickened,  as  the 
cars  they  met  grew  more  heavily  laden,  McCleary 
said: 

"  My  God!  Where  are  they  all  goin'?  How 
do  they  all  make  a  livin'?  " 

"  That  beats  me,"  said  Harold.  "  Seems  as 
if  they  eat  up  all  the  grub  in  the  world." 

The  older  man  sighed.  "  Well,  I  reckon 
they  know  what  they're  doin',  but  I'd  hate  to 
take  my  chances  among  'em." 

If  any  man  had  told  Harold  before  he  started 
that  he  would  grow  irresolute  and  weak  in  the 
presence  of  the  city  he  would  have  bitterly  re 
sented  it,  but  now  the  mass  and  weight  of  things 
hitherto  unimagined  appalled  and  bewildered 
him. 

A  profound  melancholy  settled  over  his  heart 
as  the  smoke  and  gray  light  of  the  metropolis 
closed  in  over  his  head.  For  half  a  day  he  did 
little  more  than  wander  up  and  down  Clark 
Street.  His  ears,  acute  as  a  hound's,  took  hold 
of  every  sound  and  attempted  to  identify  it,  just 
as  his  eyes  seized  and  tried  to  understand  the 
forms  and  faces  of  the  swarming  pavements. 
He  felt  his  weakness  as  never  before  and  it  made 
324 


He  Adventures  into  Strange  Lands 

him  sullen  and  irritable.  He  acknowledged  also 
the  folly  of  thrusting  himself  into  such  a  world, 
and  had  it  not  been  for  a  certain  tenacity  of  pur 
pose  which  was  beyond  his  will,  he  would  have 
returned  with  his  companions  at  the  end  of  their 
riotous  week. 

Up  till  the  day  of  their  going  he  had  made  no 
effort  to  find  Mary  but  had  merely  loitered  in 
the  streets  in  the  daytime,  and  at  night  had  vis 
ited  the  cheap  theaters,  not  knowing  the  good 
from  the  bad.  The  city  grew  each  day  more 
vast  and  more  hateful  to  him.  The  mere 
thought  of  being  forced  to  earn  a  living  in  such 
a  mad  tumult  made  him  shudder.  The  day  that 
McCleary  started  West  Harold  went  to  see  him 
off,  and  after  they  had  shaken  hands  for  the  last 
time,  Harold  went  to  the  ticket  window  and 
handed  in  his  return  coupon  to  the  agent,  say 
ing,  "  I'd  like  to  have  you  put  that  aside  for  me; 
I  don't  want  to  run  any  chances  of  losing  it." 

The  agent  smiled  knowingly.  "  All  right, 
what  name?  " 

"  Excell,  '  XL,'  that's  my  brand." 

"  All  right,  she's  right  here  any  time  you 
want  her — inside  of  the  thirty  days — time  runs 
out  on  the  fifteenth." 

"  I  savvy,"  said  Harold  as  he  turned  away. 

He  disposed  his  money  about  his  person  in 
four  or  five  small  wads,  and  so  fortified,  faced  the 
325 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

city.  To  lose  his  little  fund  would  be  like 
having  his  pack  mule  give  out  in  the  desert, 
and  he  took  every  precaution  against  such  a 
calamity. 

Nothing  of  this  uncertainty  and  inner  weak 
ness  appeared  in  his  outward  actions,  however. 
No  one  accused  him  of  looking  like  an  "  easy 
mark  "  or  "  a  soft  thing."  The  line  of  his  lips 
and  the  lower  of  his  strongly  marked  eyebrows 
made  strangers  slow  of  approach.  He  was  never 
awkward,  he  could  not  be  so  any  more  than 
could  a  fox  or  a  puma,  but  he  was  restless,  irreso 
lute,  brooding,  and  gloomy. 

He  moved  down  to  the  Occidental  Grand, 
where  he  was  able  to  secure  a  room  on  the  top 
floor  for  fifty  cents  per  day.  His  meals  he 
picked  up  wherever  he  chanced  to  be  when  feel 
ing  hungry.  When  weary  with  his  wanderings 
he  often  returned  to  his  seat  on  the  sidewalk  be 
fore  the  hotel  and  watched  the  people  pass,  find 
ing  in  this  a  melancholy  pleasure. 

One  evening  the  night  clerk,  a  brisk  young 
fellow,  took  a  seat  beside  him.  "  This  is  a  great 
corner  for  the  girls  all  right.  A  feller  can  just 
about  take  his  pick  here  along  about  eight. 
They're  after  a  ticket  to  the  theater  and  a  supper. 
If  a  feller  only  has  a  few  seemolleons  to  spare 
he  can  have  a  life  worth  livin'." 

Mose  turned  a  curious  glance  upon  him.  "  If 
326 


He  Adventures  into  Strange  Lands 

you  wanted  to  find  a  party  in  this  town  how 
would  you  go  at  it?  " 

"  Well,  I'd  try  the  directory  first  go-off.  If 
I  didn't  find  him  there  I'd  write  to  some  of  his 
folks,  if  I  knew  any  of  'em,  and  get  a  clew.  If  I 
didn't  succeed  then  I'd  try  the  police.  What's 
his  name?  " 

Harold  ignored  this  query. 

"  Where  could  I  try  this  directory?  " 

"  There's  one  right  in  there  on  the  desk." 

"  That  big  book?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  didn't  know  what  that  was.  I  thought  it- 
was  a  dictionary." 

The  clerk  shrieked  with  merriment.  "  The 
dictionary!  Well,  say,  where  have  you  been 
raised?  " 

"  On  the  range." 

"  You  mean  cowboy?  " 

"Yes;  we  don't  need  directories  out  there. 
Does  that  book  tell  where  everybody  lives?  " 

"  Well  no,  but  most  everybody  shows  up  in 
it  somewhere,"  replied  the  clerk  quite  soberly. 
It  had  not  occurred  to  him  that  anybody  could 
live  outside  a  directory. 

Harold  got  up  and  went  to  the  book  which 

he  turned  over  slowly,  looking  at  the  names.    "  I 

don't  see  that  this  helps  a  man  much,"  he  said  to 

the  clerk  who  came  in  to  help  him.     "  Here  is 

327 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

Henry  Coleman  lives  at   2201    Exeter  Street. 
Now  how  is  a  man  going  to  find  that  street?  " 

"  Ask  a  policeman,"  replied  the  clerk,  much 
interested.  "  You're  not  used  to  towns?  " 

"  Not  much.  I  can  cross  a  mountain  range 
easier  than  I  can  find  one  of  these  streets." 

Under  the  clerk's  supervision  Harold  found 
the  Yardwells,  Thomas  and  James,  but  Mary's 
name  did  not  appear.  He  turned  to  conserva 
tories  and  located  three  or  four,  and  having  made 
out  a  slip  of  information  set  forth.  The  first  one 
he  found  to  be  situated  up  several  flights  of 
stairs  and  was  closed;  so  was  the  second.  The 
third  was  in  a  brilliantly  lighted  building  which 
towered  high  above  the  street.  On  the  eighth 
floor  in  a  small  office  a  young  girl  with  severe 
cast  of  countenance  (and  hair  parted  on  one 
side)  looked  up  from  her  writing  and  coldly  in 
quired: 

"  Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you?  " 

"  Is  there  a  girl  named  Mary  Yardwell  in 
your  school?  "  he  asked  with  some  effort,  feel 
ing  a  hot  flush  in  his  cheek — a  sensation  new  to 
him. 

"  I  don't  think  so,  I'll  look,"  replied  the  girl 
with  business  civility.  She  thumbed  a  book 
to  see  and  at  length  replied,  "  No,  sir,  there 
is  not." 

"  Much  obliged." 

328 


He  Adventures  into  Strange  Lands 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  the  girl  calmly,  resum 
ing  her  work. 

Harold  went  down  the  steps  to  avoid  the  ele 
vator.  The  next  place  was  oppressive  with  its 
grandeur.  A  tremendous  wall,  cold  and  dark 
(except  for  a  single  row  of  lighted  windows), 
loomed  high  overhead.  In  the  center  of  an 
arched  opening  in  this  wall  a  white  hot  globe 
flamed,  lighting  into  still  more  dazzling  cleanli 
ness  a  broad  flight  of  marble  steps  which  led  by 
a  half  turn  to  unknown  regions  above.  Young 
people  were  crowding  into  the  elevator,  girls  in 
dainty  costumes  predominating.  They  seemed 
wondrously  flowerlike  and  birdlike  to  the  plains 
man,  and  brought  back  his  school  days  at  the 
seminary,  and  the  time  when  he  was  at  ease  with 
young  people  like  this.  He  had  gone  far  from 
them  now — their  happy  faces  made  him  sad. 

He  walked  up  the  stairway,  four  flights,  and 
came  to  a  long  hall,  which  rustled  and  rippled 
and  sparkled  with  flights  of  young  girls — eager, 
vivid,  excited,  and  care-free.  A  few  men  moved 
about  like  dull-coated  robins  surrounded  by  ori 
oles  and  canary  birds. 

A  bland  old  man  with  clean-shaven  mouth 
seemed  to  be  the  proper  source  of  information, 
and  to  him  Harold  stepped  with  his  question. 

The  old  man  smiled.  "  Miss  Yardwell?  Yes 
— she  is  one  of  our  most  valued  pupils.  Certain- 
329 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

ly — Willy!  "  he  called  to  a  small  boy  who  car 
ried  a  livery  of  startling  newness,  "  go  tell  Miss 
Yardwell  a  gentleman  would  like  to  see  her." 

"  I  suppose  you  are  from  her  country 
home?  "  said  the  old  gentleman,  who  imagined 
a  romance  in  this  relation  of  a  powerful  and 
handsome  young  man  to  Miss  Yardwell. 

"  I  am,"  Harold  replied  briefly. 

"  Take  a  seat — she  will  be  here  presently." 

Harold  took  the  offered  seat  with  a  sick, 
faint  feeling  at  the  pit  of  his  stomach.  The  long- 
hoped-for  event  was  at  hand.  It  seemed  impos 
sible  that  Mary  could  be  there — that  she  was 
about  to  stand  before  him.  His  mind  was  filled 
with  the  things  he  had  arranged  to  say  to  her, 
but  they  were  now  in  confused  mass,  circling  and 
circling  like  the  wrack  of  a  boat  in  a  river's  whirl 
pool. 

He  knew  her  far  down  the  hall — he  recog 
nized  the  poise  of  her  head  and  her  walk,  which 
had  always  been  very  fine  and  dignified.  As 
she  approached,  the  radiance  of  her  dress,  her 
beauty,  scared  him.  She  looked  at  him  once  and 
then  at  the  clerk  as  if  to  say,  "  Is  this  the  man?  " 

Then  Harold  arose  and  said,  "  Well,  Mary, 
here  I  am." 

For  an  instant  she  looked  at  him,  and  then  a 
light  leaped  into  her  eyes. 

"Why,  Harold  Excell! "  she  stopped 

330 


He  Adventures  into  Strange  Lands 

abruptly  as  he  caught  her  outstretched  hands, 
and  she  remembered  the  sinister  association  of 
the  name.  "  Why,  why,  I  didn't  know  you. 
Where  do  you  come  from? "  Her  face  was 
flushed,  her  eyes  eager,  searching,  restless. 
"  Come  in  here,"  she  said  abruptly,  and  before 
he  had  time  to  reply,  she  led  him  to  a  little  ante 
room  with  a  cushioned  wall  seat,  and  they  took 
seats  side  by  side. 

"  It  is  impossible!  "  she  said,  still  staring  at 
him,  her  bosom  pulsating  with  her  quickened 
breath.  "  It  is  not  you — it  can't  be  you,"  she 
whispered,  "  Black  Mose  sitting  here — with  me 
— in  Chicago.  You're  in  danger." 

"  I  don't  feel  that  way." 

He  smiled  for  the  first  time,  and  his  fine 
teeth  shining  from  his  handsome  mouth  led  her 
to  say: 

"  Your  big  mustaches  are  gone — that's  the 
reason  I  didn't  know  you  at  once — I  don't  be 
lieve  I  like  you  so  well " 

"  They'll  grow  again,"  he  said;  "  I'm  in  dis 
guise."  He  smiled  again  as  if  in  a  joke. 

Again  the  thought  of  who  he  really  was 
flamed  through  her  mind.  "  What  a  life  you 
lead!  How  do  you  happen  to  be  here?  I  never 
expected  to  see  you  in  a  city — you  don't  fit  into 
a  city." 

"  I'm  here  because  you  are,"  he  replied,  and 
«  331 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

the  simplicity  of  his  reply  moved  her  deeply. 
"  I  came  as  soon  as  I  got  your  letter,"  he 
went  on. 

"  My  letter!  Fve  written  only  one  letter, 
that  was  soon  after  your  visit  to  Marmion." 

"  That's  the  one  I  mean.  I  got  it  nearly 
four  years  after  you  wrote  it.  I  hope  you 
haven't  changed  since  that  letter." 

"  I'm  older,"  she  said  evasively.  "  My  fa 
ther  died  a  little  over  a  year  ago." 

"  I  know,  Jack  wrote  me." 

"  Why  didn't  you  get  my  letter  sooner?  " 

"  I  was  on  the  trail." 

"  On  the  trail!  You  are  always  on  the  trail. 
Oh,  the  wild  life  you  lead!  I  saw  notices  of  you 
once  or  twice — always  in  some  trouble."  She 
looked  at  him  smilingly  but  there  was  sadness  in 
her  smile. 

"  It's  no  fault  of  mine,"  he  exclaimed.  "  I 
can't  stand  by  and  see  some  poor  Indian  or 
Chinaman  bullied — and  besides  the  papers  al 
ways  exaggerate  everything  I  do.  You  mustn't 
condemn  me  till  you  hear  my  side  of  these 
scrapes." 

"  I  don't  condemn  you  at  all  but  it  makes 
me  sad,"  she  slowly  replied.  "  You  are  wasting 
your  life  out  there  in  the  wild  country — oh,  isn't 
it  strange  that  we  should  sit  here?  My  mind 
is  so  busy  with  the  wonder  of  it  I  can't  talk 
332 


He  Adventures  into  Strange  Lands 

straight.  I  had  given  up  ever  seeing  you 
again " 

"  You're  not  married?  "  he  asked  with  start 
ling  bluntness. 

She  colored  hotly.     "  No." 

"  Are  you  engaged?  " 

"  No,"  she  replied  faintly. 

"  Then  you're  mine! "  he  said  with  a  clutch 
upon  her  wrist,  a  masterful  intensity  of  passion 
in  his  eyes. 

"  Don't— please  don't!  "  she  said,  "  they  will 
see  you." 

"  I  don't  care  if  they  do!  "  he  exultingly  said; 
then  his  face  darkened.  "  But  perhaps  you  are 
ashamed  of  me?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  no— only " 

"  I  couldn't  blame  you  if  you  were,"  he  said 
bitterly.  "  I'm  only  a  poor  devil  of  a  moun 
taineer,  not  fit  to  sit  here  beside  you." 

"  Tell  me  about  yourself,"  she  hastened  to 
say.  "  What  have  you  been  doing  all  these 
years?  "  She  was  determined  to  turn  him  from 
his  savage  arraignment  of  himself. 

"  It  won't  amount  to  much  in  your  eyes.  It 
isn't  worth  as  much  to  me  as  I  thought  it  was 
going  to  be.  When  I  found  King  had  your 
promise — I  hit  the  trail  and  I  didn't  care  where 
it  led,  so  it  didn't  double  on  itself.  I  didn't  want 
to  see  or  hear  anything  of  you  again.  What 
333 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

became    of    King?      Why    did    you    turn    him 
loose?  " 

Her  eyelids  fell  to  shut  out  his  gaze.  "  Well 
— after  your  visit  I  couldn't  find  courage  to  ful 
fill  my  promise — and  so  I  asked  him  to  release 
me — and  he  did — he  was  very  kind." 

"  He  couldn't  do  anything  else." 

"  Go  on  with  your  story,"  she  said  hurriedly. 

As  they  sat  thus  in  the  corner  of  the  little 
sitting  room,  the  pupils  and  guests  of  the  insti 
tution  came  and  went  from  the  cloak  rooms,  eye 
ing  the  intent  couple  with  smiling  and  curious 
glances.  Who  could  that  dark,  handsome 
young  man  be  who  held  Miss  Yardwell  with  his 
glittering  eyes?  The  girls  found  something 
very  interesting  in  his  bronzed  skin  and  in  the 
big  black  hat  which  he  held  in  his  hands. 

On  his  part  Harold  did  not  care — he  scarcely 
noticed  these  figures.  Their  whispers  were  as 
unimportant  as  the  sound  of  aspen  leaves,  their 
footfalls  as  little  to  be  heeded  as  those  of  rabbits 
on  the  pine  needles  of  his  camp.  Before  him  sat 
the  one  human  being  in  the  world  who  could 
command  him  and  she  was  absorbed  in  interest 
of  his  story.  He  grew  to  a  tense,  swift,  eager 
narration  as  he  went  on.  It  pleased  him  to  see 
her  glow  with  interest  and  enthusiasm  over  the 
sights  and  sounds  of  the  wild  country.  At  last 
he  ended. 

334 


He  Adventures  into  Strange  Lands 

"  And  so — I  feel  as  though  I  could  settle 
down — if  I  only  had  you.  The  trail  got  lone 
some  that  last  year — I  didn't  suppose  it  would — 
but  it  did.  After  three  years  of  it  I  was  glad 
to  get  back  to  my  old  friends,  the  Reynolds.  I 
thought  of  you  every  day — but  I  didn't  listen  to 
hear  you  sing,  because  I  thought  you  were 
King's  wife — I  didn't  want  to  hear  about  you 
ever — but  that's  all  past  now — I  am  here  and 
you  are  here.  Will  you  go  back  to  the  moun 
tains  with  me  this  time?  " 

She  looked  away.  "  Come  and  see  me  to 
morrow,  I  must  think  of  this.  It  is  so  hard  to 

decide — our  lives  are  so  different "  She 

arose  abruptly.  "  I  must  go  now.  Come  into 
the  concert,  I'm  going  to  sing."  She  glanced 
at  him  in  a  sad,  half-smiling  way.  "  I  can't  sing 
If  I  Were  a  Voice  for  you,  but  perhaps  you'll 
like  my  aria  better." 

As  they  walked  along  the  corridor  together 
they  formed  a  singularly  handsome  couple.  He 
was  clad  in  a  well-worn  but  neat  black  suit,  which 
he  wore  with  grace.  His  big-rimmed  black  hat 
was  crushed  in  his  left  hand.  Mary  was  in  pale 
blue  which  became  her  well,  and  on  her  softly 
rounded  face  a  thoughtful  smile  rested.  She 
always  walked  with  uncommon  dignity,  and  the 
eyes  of  many  young  men  followed  her.  There 
was  something  about  her  companion  not  quite 
335 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

analyzable  to  her  city  friends — something  alien 
and  savage  and  admirable. 

Entering  the  hall  they  found  it  well  filled,  but 
Mary  secured  a  seat  near  the  side  door  for  Har 
old,  and  with  a  smile  said,  "  I  may  not  see  you 
till  to-morrow.  Here  is  my  address.  Come  up 
early.  At  three.  I  want  a  long  talk  with  you." 

Left  to  himself  the  plainsman  looked  around 
the  hall  which  seemed  a  splendid  and  spacious 
one  to  him.  It  was  filled  with  ladies  in  beautiful 
costumes,  and  with  men  in  clawhammer  coats. 
He  had  seen  pictures  of  evening  suits  in  the 
newspapers  but  never  before  had  he  been  privi 
leged  to  behold  live  men  in  them.  The  men 
seemed  pale  and  puny  for  the  most  part.  He 
had  never  before  seen  ladies  in  low-necked 
dresses  and  one  just  before  him  seemed  shame 
lessly  naked,  and  he  gazed  at  her  in  astonish 
ment.  He  was  glad  Mary  had  more  modesty. 

The  concert  interested  him  but  did  not  move 
him.  The  songs  were  brilliant  but  without 
meaning.  He  waited  with  fierce  impatience  for 
Mary  to  come  on,  and  during  this  wait  he  did 
an  inordinate  amount  of  thinking.  A  hundred 
new  conceptions  came  into  his  besieged  brain — 
engaging  but  by  no  means  confusing  him.  He 
perceived  that  Mary  was  already  as  much  a  part 
of  this  high-colored  life  as  she  had  been  of  the 
life  of  Marmion,  quite  at  ease,  certain  of  herself, 

336 


He  Adventures  into  Strange  Lands 

and  the  canon  between  them  widened  swiftly. 
She  was  infinitely  further  away  from  him  than 
before.  His  cause  now  entirely  hopeless,  he  had 
no  right  to  ask  any  such  sacrifice  of  her — even  if 
she  were  ready  to  make  it. 

As  she  stepped  out  upon  the  stage  in  the 
glare  of  the  light,  she  seemed  as  far  from  him  as 
the  roseate  crown  of  snow  on  Sierra  Blanca,  and 
he  shivered  with  a  sort  of  awe.  Her  singing 
moved  him  less  than  her  delicate  beauty — but 
her  voice  and  the  pretty  way  she  had  of  lifting 
her  chin  thrilled  him  just  as  when  he  sat  in  the 
little  church  at  Marmion.  The  flowerlike  tex 
ture  of  her  skin  and  the  exquisite  grace  of  her 
hands  plunged  him  into  gloom. 

He  did  not  join  in  the  generous  applause 
which  followed — he  wondered  if  she  would  sing 
If  I  Were  a  Voice  for  him.  He  felt  a  numbness 
creeping  over  his  limbs  and  he  drew  his  breath 
like  one  in  pain.  Mary  looked  pale  as  a  lily  as 
she  returned  and  stood  waiting  for  the  applause 
to  die  away.  Then  out  over  the  tense  audience, 
straight  toward  him,  soared  her  voice  quivering 
with  emotion — she  dared  to  sing  the  old  song 
for  him. 

Suddenly  all  sense  of  material  things  passed 

from  the  wild  heart  of  the  plainsman.     He  saw 

only  the  singer  who  stood  in  the  center  of  a 

white  flame.     A  soft  humming  roar  was  in  his 

337 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

ears  like  the  falling  of  rain  drops  on  the  leaves  of 
maple  trees.  He  remembered  the  pale  little  girl 
in  the  prison — this  was  not  Mary — but  she  had 
the  voice  and  the  spirit  of  Mary - 

Then  the  song  stopped!  The  singer  went 
away — the  white  light  went  with  her  and  the 
yellow  glare  of  lamps  came  back.  He  heard  the 
passionate  applause — he  saw  Mary  reappear  and 
bow,  a  sad  smile  on  her  face — a  smile  which  he 
alone  could  understand — her  heart  was  full  of 
pity  for  him.  Then  once  more  she  withdrew, 
and  staggering  like  one  suffering  from  vertigo — 
the  eagle-hearted  youth  went  out  of  the  hall  and 
down  the  polished  stairway  like  an  outcast  soul, 
descending  from  paradise  into  hell. 

That  radiant  singer  was  not  for  such  as  Black 
Mose. 


338 


CHAPTER    XX 

A    DARK    DAY   WITH    A    GLOWING    SUNSET 

.  THE  clerk  at  the  station  window  was  not  the 
kindly  young  man  who  had  received  Harold's 
ticket  for  safe  keeping.  He  knew  nothing  of  it 
and  poked  around  for  several  minutes  before 
finding  it.  After  glancing  keenly  at  its  date  he 
threw  it  down  and  brusquely  said: 

"  Time's  out  on  this,  my  friend." 

Harold  looked  at  him  sharply.  "  Oh,  no, 
that  can't  be;  it's  a  thirty-day  trip." 

The  agent  grew  irritable.  "  I  know  it  is;  it 
was  good  to  the  fifteenth;  this  is  the  seven 
teenth;  the  ticket  is  worthless." 

Harold  took  up  the  slip  of  paper  and  stared 
at  it  in  bewilderment.  The  agent  was  right;  he 
had  overstayed  the  limit  and  was  without  five 
dollars  in  his  pocket.  He  turned  weak  with  a 
sudden  sense  of  his  helplessness  and  the  desola 
tion  of  his  surroundings.  He  was  like  a  man 
whose  horse  fails  him  on  a  desert.  Taking  a  seat 
on  a  bench  in  a  dark  corner  of  the  waiting  room 
he  gave  himself  up  to  a  study  of  the  situation. 
339 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

To  be  alone  in  the  Needle  Range  was  nothing  to 
worry  about,  but  to  be  alone  and  without  money 
in  a  city  scared  him. 

For  two  hours  he  sat  there,  his  thoughts  mill 
ing  like  a  herd  of  restless  cattle,  turning  aimless 
ly  around  and  around  in  their  tracks.  He  had 
foolishly  neglected  his  opportunity  to  escape, 
and  the  mountains  became  each  moment  more 
beautiful  as  they  swiftly  receded  into  unattain 
able  distance.  He  had  expected  to  be  riding 
back  into  the  safe  and  splendid  plains  country, 
back  to  friends  and  familiar  things,  and  had 
trusted  to  the  joy  of  his  return  to  soften  the  de 
spair  of  his  second  failure  to  take  Mary  back 
with  him. 

It  was  a  sorrowful  thing  to  see  the  young 
eagle  in  somber  dream,  the  man  of  unhesitating 
action  becoming  introspective.  Floods  of  in 
tent  business  men,  gay  young  girls,  and  grizzled 
old  farmers  in  groups  of  twos  and  threes, 
streamed  by,  dimly  shadowed  in  his  reflective 
eyes.  All  these  people  had  purpose  and  reward 
in  their  lives;  he  alone  was  a  stray,  a  tramp,  with 
no  one  but  old  Kintuck  to  draw  him  to  any  par 
ticular  spot  or  keep  him  there. 

"  I  am  outside  of  everything,"  he  bitterly 
thought.  "  There  is  nothing  for  me." 

Yes,  there  was  Cora  and  there  was  little  Pink 
— and  then  he  thought  of  Mrs.  Raimon,  whose 
340 


A  Dark  Day  with  a  Glowing  Sunset 

wealth  and  serenity  of  temper  had  a  greater  ap 
peal  than  ever  before.  He  knew  perfectly  well 
that  a  single  word  from  him  would  bring  her  and 
her  money  to  his  rescue  at  once.  But  some 
thing  arose  in  him  which  made  the  utterance  of 
such  a  word  impossible.  As  for  Cora  and  the 
little  one,  they  brought  up  a  different  emotion, 
and  the  thought  of  them  at  last  aroused  him  to 
action. 

"  I'll  get  something  to  do  and  earn  money 
enough  to  go  back  on,"  he  finally  said  to  him 
self;  "  that's  all  I'm  fit  for,  just  to  work  by  the 
day  for  some  other  man;  that's  my  size.  I've 
failed  in  everything  else  I've  ever  undertaken. 
I've  no  business  to  interfere  with  a  girl  like 
Mary.  She's  too  high  class  for  a  hobo  like  me; 
even  if  I  had  a  ranch  it  would  be  playing  it  low 
down  on  a  singer  like  her  to  ask  her  to  go  out 
there.  It's  no  use;  I'm  worse  than  a  failure — I'm 
in  a  hole,  and  the  first  thing  I've  got  to  do  is  to 
earn  money  enough  to  get  out  of  it." 

He  was  ashamed  to  go  back  to  the  little 
hotel  to  which  he  had  said  good-by  with  so  much 
relief.  It  was  too  expensive  for  him,  anyhow, 
and  so  he  set  to  work  to  find  one  near  by  which 
came  within  his  changed  condition.  He  secured 
lodging  at  last  in  an  old  wooden  shack  on  a  side 
street  not  far  from  the  station,  where  rooms 
could  be  had  for  twenty  cents  a  night — in  ad- 
341 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

vance.  It  was  a  wretched  place,  filled  with  cock 
roaches  and  other  insects,  but  it  was  at  least  a 
hole  in  which  he  could  den  up  for  a  few  nights 
when  sleep  overcame  him.  Thus  fortified,  he 
wandered  forth  into  the  city,  which  was  be 
coming  each  moment  more  remorseless  and 
more  menacing  in  his  eyes. 

Almost  without  knowing  it,  he  found  himself 
walking  the  broad  pavement  before  the  musical 
college  wherein  he  found  Mary.  He  had  no 
definite  hope  of  seeing  her  again,  but  that  door 
way  was  the  one  spot  of  light  in  all  the  weltering 
black  chaos  of  the  city,  which  now  threatened 
him  with  hunger  and  cold.  The  awe  and  terror 
he  felt  were  such  as  a  city  dweller  would  feel  if 
left  alone  in  a  wild  swamp  filled  with  strange 
beasts  and  reptiles. 

After  an  hour's  aimless  walking  to  and  fro, 
he  returned  to  his  bed  each  night,  still  revolving 
every  conceivable  plan  for  earning  money.  His 
thought  turned  naturally  to  the  handling  of  cat 
tle  at  the  stockyards,  and  one  morning  he  set 
forth  on  his  quest,  only  to  meet  with  a  great  sur 
prise.  He  found  all  the  world  changed  to  him 
when  it  became  known  that  he  was  looking  for  a 
job.  When  he  said  to  the  office  boys,  "  I  want 
to  see  the  man  who  has  charge  of  hiring  the 
hands,"  they  told  him  to  wait  a  while  in  a  tone 
of  voice  which  he  had  never  before  encountered. 
342 


A  Dark  Day  with  a  Glowing  Sunset 

His  blood  flamed  hot  in  an  instant  over  their 
calm  insolence.  Eventually  he  found  his  way 
into  a  room  where  a  surly  fat  man  sat  writing. 
He  looked  up  over  his  shoulder  and  snarled 
out: 

"  Well,  what  is  it?     What  do  you  want?  " 

Harold  controlled  himself  and  replied:  "  I 
want  to  get  a  job;  I'm  a  cattleman  from  Colo 
rado,  and  I'd  like " 

"  I  don't  care  where  you're  from;  we've  got 
all  the  men  we  want.  See  Mr.  White,  don't 
come  bothering  me." 

Harold  put  his  hand  on  the  man's  shoulder 
with  the  gesture  of  an  angry  leopard,  and  a  yel 
low  glare  filled  his  eyes,  from  which  the  brutal 
boss  shrank  as  if  from  a  flame. 

With  a  powerful  effort  he  pulled  himself  up 
short  and  said:  "Treat  the  next  cattleman  that 
comes  your  way  a  little  more  decent  or  you'll  get 
a  part  of  your  lung  carried  away.  Good  day." 

He  walked  out  with  the  old  familiar  numb 
ness  in  his  body  and  the  red  flashes  wavering  be 
fore  his  eyes.  His  brain  was  in  tumult.  The 
free  man  of  the  mountain  had  come  in  contact 
with  "  the  tyrant  of  labor,"  and  it  was  well  for 
the  big  beast  that  Harold  was  for  the  moment 
without  his  gun. 

Going  back  to  his  room  he  took  out  his  re 
volver  and  loaded  every  chamber.  In  the  set  of 
343 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

his  lips  was  menace  to  the  next  employer 
dared  to  insult  and  degrade  him. 

In  the  days  that  followed  he  wandered  over 
the  city,  with  eyes  that  took  note  of  every  group 
of  workmen.  He  could  not  bring  himself  to  go 
back  to  the  stockyards,  there  was  danger  of  his 
becoming  a  murderer  if  he  did;  and  as  he  ap 
proached  the  various  bosses  of  the  gangs  of  men 
in  the  street,  he  found  himself  again  and  again 
without  the  resolution  to  touch  his  hat  and  ask 
for  a  job.  Once  or  twice  he  saw  others  quite  as 
brutally  rebuffed  as  he  had  been,  and  it  was  only 
by  turning  away  that  he  kept  himself  from  tak 
ing  a  hand  in  an  encounter.  Once  or  twice, 
when  the  overseer  happened  to  be  a  decent  and 
sociable  fellow,  Harold,  edging  near,  caught  his 
eye  and  was  able  to  address  him  on  terms  of 
equality;  but  in  each  case  the  talk  which  fol 
lowed  brought  out  the  fact  that  men  were 
swarming  for  every  place;  indeed  Harold  could 
see  this  for  himself.  Ultimately  he  fell  into  the 
ranks  of  poor,  shivering,  hollow-cheeked  fellows 
who  stood  around  wistfully  watching  the  ex 
cavation  of  cellars  or  hanging  with  pathetic  in- 
tentness  above  the  handling  of  great  iron  beams 
or  pile  drivers. 

Work  came  to  be  a  wonderful  thing  to  pos 
sess.     To  put  hand  to  a  beam  or  a  shovel  seemed 
now  a  most  desirable  favor,  for  it  meant  not  only 
344 


A  Dark  Day  with  a  Glowing  Sunset 

warm  food  and  security  and  shelter,  but  in  his 
case  it  promised  a  return  to  the  mountains  which 
came  each  hour  to  seem  the  one  desirable  and 
splendid  country  in  the  world — so  secure,  so  joy 
ous,  so  shining,  his  heart  ached  with  wistful  love 
of  it. 

Each  night  he  walked  over  to  the  Lake 
shore,  past  the  college  and  up  the  viaduct,  till  he 
could  look  out  over  the  mysterious,  dim  expanse 
of  water.  It  reminded  him  of  the  plains,  and 
helped  him  with  its  lonely  sweep  and  its  serene 
majesty  of  reflected  stars.  At  night  he  dreamed 
of  the  cattle  and  of  his  old  companions  on  the 
trail;  once  he  was  riding  with  Talfeather  and  his 
band  in  the  West  Elk  Mountains;  once  he  was 
riding  up  the  looping,  splendid  incline  of  the 
Trout  Lake  Trail,  seeing  the  clouds  gather 
around  old  Lizard  Head.  At  other  times  he 
was  back  at  the  Reynolds  ranch  taking  supper 
while  the  cattle  bawled,  and  through  the  open 
door  the  light  of  the  setting  sun  fell. 

He  had  written  to  Reynolds,  asking  him  to 
buy  his  saddle  and  bridle  (he  couldn't  bring  him 
self  to  sell  Kintuck)  and  each  day  he  hoped  for 
a  reply.  He  had  not  stated  his  urgent  need  of 
money,  but  Reynolds  would  know.  One  by  one 
every  little  trinket  which  he  possessed  went  to 
pay  his  landlord  for  his  room.  He  had  a  small 
nugget,  which  he  had  carried  as  a  good-luck 
345 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

pocket-piece  for  many  months;  this  he  sold,  and 
at  last  his  revolvers  went,  and  then  he  seemed 
helpless. 

No  word  from  Reynolds  came,  and  the 
worst  of  it  was,  if  the  money  did  come  it  would 
not  now  be  enough  to  carry  him  back.  If  he 
had  been  able  to  put  it  with  the  money  from  his 
nugget  and  revolvers  it  would  at  least  have  taken 
him  to  Denver.  But  now  it  was  too  late. 

At  last  there  came  a  day  when  he  was  at  his 
last  resource.  He  could  find  no  work  to  do  in 
the  streets,  and  so,  setting  his  teeth  on  his  pride, 
he  once  more  sought  the  stockyards  and  "  Mr. 
White."  It  was  a  cold,  rainy  day,  and  he  walked 
the  entire  distance.  Weak  as  he  was  from  insuf 
ficient  food,  bad  air,  and  his  depression,  he  could 
not  afford  to  spend  one  cent  for  car  fare. 

White  turned  out  to  be  a  very  decent  fellow, 
who  knew  nothing  whatever  of  Harold's  en 
counter  with  the  other  man.  He  had  no  work 
for  him,  however.  He  seemed  genuinely  re 
gretful,  and  said: 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,  I'm  laying  off  men  just 
now;  you  see  the  rush  is  pretty  well  over  with." 

Harold  went  over  to  the  Great  Western 
Hotel  and  hung  about  the  barroom,  hoping  to 
meet  some  one  he  knew,  even  though  there  was 
a  certain  risk  of  being  recognized  as  Black  Mose. 
Swarms  of  cattlemen  filled  the  hotel,  but  they 
346 


A  Dark  Day  with  a  Glowing  Sunset 

were  mainly  from  Texas  and  Oklahoma,  and  no 
familiar  face  met  his  searching  eyes.  He  was 
now  so  desperately  homesick  that  he  meditated 
striking  one  of  these  prosperous-looking  fellows 
for  a  pass  back  to  the  cattle  country.  But  each 
time  his  pride  stood  in  the  way.  It  would  be 
necessary  to  tell  his  story  and  yet  conceal  his 
name — which  was  a  very  difficult  thing  to  do 
even  if  he  had  had  nothing  to  cover  up. 

Late  in  the  evening,  faint  with  hunger,  he 
started  for  his  wretched  bunk  as  a  starving  wolf 
returns,  after  an  unsuccessful  hunt,  to  his  cold 
and  cheerless  den.  His  money  was  again  re 
duced  to  a  few  coppers,  and  for  a  week  he  had 
allowed  himself  only  a  small  roll  three  times  a 
day.  "  My  God!  if  I  was  only  among  the  In- 
jins,"  he  said  savagely;  "they  wouldn't  see  a 
man  starve,  not  while  they  had  a  sliver  of  meat 
to  share  with  him;  but  these  Easterners  don't 
care;  I'm  no  more  to  them  than  a  snake  or  a 
horned  toad." 

The  knowledge  that  Mary's  heart  would 
bleed  with  sorrow  if  she  knew  of  his  condition 
nerved  him  to  make  another  desperate  trial. 
"  I'll  try  again  to-morrow,"  he  said  through  his 
set  teeth. 

On  the  way  home  his  curious  fatalism  took  a 
sudden  turn,  and  a  feeling  that  Reynolds'  letter 
surely  awaited  him  made  his  heart  glow.  It  was 
*3  347 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

impossible  that  he  should  actually  be  without  a 
cent  of  money,  and  the  thought  filled  his  brain 
with  ^an  irrational  exaltation  which  made  him 
forget  the  slime  in  which  his  feet  slipped.  He 
planned  to  start  on  the  limited  train.  "  I'll  go 
as  far  from  this  cursed  hole  of  a  city  as  I  can,"  he 
said;  "  I'll  get  out  where  men  don't  eat  each 
other  to  keep  alive.  He'll  certainly  send  me 
twenty  dollars.  The  silver  on  the  bridle  is 
worth  that  alone.  Mebbe  he'll  understand  I'm 
broke,  and  send  me  fifty." 

He  became  so  sure  of  this  at  last  that  he 
stepped  into  a  saloon  and  bought  a  big  glass  of 
brandy  to  ward  off  a  chill  which  he  felt  coming 
upon  him,  and  helped  himself  to  a  lunch  at  the 
counter.  When  he  arose  his  limbs  felt  weak  and 
a  singular  numbness  had  spread  over  his  whole 
body.  He  had  never  been  drunk  in  his  life — 
but  he  knew  the  brandy  had  produced  this 
effect. 

"  I  shouldn't  have  taken  it  on  an  empty 
stomach,"  he  muttered  to  himself  as  he  dragged 
his  heavy  limbs  out  of  the  door. 

When  he  came  fairly  to  his  senses  again  he 
was  lying  in  his  little  room  and  the  slatternly 
chambermaid  was  looking  in  at  him. 

"  You  aind  seek  alretty?  "  she  asked. 

"Go  away,"  he  said  with  a  scowl;  "you've 
bothered  me  too  much." 
348 


A  Dark  Day  with  a  Glowing  Sunset 

"  You  peen  trinken — aind  it.  Chim  help  you 
up  de  stairs  last  nide." 

"  What  time  is  it?  "  he  asked,  with  an  effort 
to  recall  where  he  had  been. 

"Tweluf  o'clock,"  she  replied,  still  Ibok- 
ing  at  him  keenly,  genuinely  concerned  about 
him. 

"  Go  away.  I  must  get  up."  As  she  went 
toward  the  door  he  sat  up  for  a  moment,  but  a 
terrible  throbbing  pain  just  back  of  his  eyes 
threw  him  back  upon  his  pillow  as  if  he  had 
met  the  blow  of  a  fist.  "  Oh,  I'm  used  up 
— I  can't  do  it,"  he  groaned,  pressing  his 
palms  to  his  temples.  "  I'm  burning  up  with 
fever." 

The  girl  came  back.  "  Dat's  vat  I  tought. 
You  dond  look  ride.  Your  mudder  vouldn't 
known  you  since  you  gome  here.  Pedder  you 
send  for  your  folks  alretty." 

"  Oh,  go  out— let  me  alone.  Yes,  I'll  do  it. 
I'll  get  up  soon." 

When  the  girl  returned  with  the  proprietor 
of  the  hotel  Harold  was  far  past  rational  speech. 
He  was  pounding  furiously  on  the  door,  shout 
ing,  "  Let  me  out!  "  When  they  tried  to  open 
the  door  they  found  it  locked.  The  proprietor, 
a  burly  German,  set  his  weight  against  it  and 
tore  the  lock  off. 

Harold  was  dangerously  quiet  as  he  said: 
349 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

"  You'd  better  let  me  out  o'  here.  Them  greas 
ers  are  stampeding  the  cattle.  It's  a  little  trick 
of  theirs." 

"Dot's  all  right;  you  go  back  to  bed;  I'll 
look  out  for  dot  greaser  pisness,"  said  the  land 
lord,  who  thought  him  drunk. 

"  You  let  me  out  or  I'll  break  you  in  two," 
the  determined  man  replied,  and  a  tremendous 
struggle  took  place. 

Ultimately  Harold  was  vanquished,  and 
Schmidt,  piling  his  huge  bulk  on  the  worn-out 
body  of  the  young  man,  held  him  until  his  no 
tion  changed. 

"  Did  you  ever  have  a  tree  burn  up  in  your 
head?  "  he  asked. 

"  Pring  a  policeman,"  whispered  Schmidt  to 
the  girl,  "  and  a  doctor.  De  man  is  grazy  mit 
fevers;  he  aindt  trunk." 

When  the  officer  came  in  Harold  looked  at 
him  with  sternly  steady  eyes.  "  See  here,  cap, 
don't  you  try  any  funny  business  with  me.  I 
won't  stand  it;  I'll  shoot  with  you  for  dollars  or 
doughnuts." 

"  What's  the  matter — jim-jams?  "  asked  the 
officer  indifferently. 

"  No,"  replied  Schmidt,  "  I  tondt  pelief  it- 
he's  got  some  fever  onto  him." 

The  policeman  felt  his  pulse.     "  He's  cer 
tainly  hot  enough.     Who  is  he?  " 
350 


A  Dark  Day  with  a  Glowing  Sunset 

"  Hank  Jones." 

"That's  a  lie  — I'm  '  Black  Mose,'"  said 
Harold. 

The  policeman  smiled.  "  (  Black  Mose  '  was 
killed  in  San  Juan  last  summer." 

Harold  received  this  news  gravely.  "  Sorry 
for  him,  but  I'm  the  man.  You'll  find  my  name 
on  my  revolver,  the  big  one — not  the  little  one. 
I'm  all  the  '  Black  Mose  '  there  is.  If  you'll  give 
me  a  chance  I'll  rope  a  steer  with  you  for  blood 
or  whisky;  I'm  thirsty." 

"  Well  now,"  said  the  policeman,  "  you  be 
quiet  till  the  doctor  comes,  and  I'll  go  through 
your  valise."  After  a  hasty  examination  he 
said:  "  Damned  little  here,  and  no  revolvers  of 
any  kind.  Does  he  eat  here?  " 

"  No,  he  only  hires  this  room." 

"  Mebbe  he  don't  eat  anywhere;  he  looks  to 
me  like  a  hungry  man." 

"  Dot's  what  I  think,"  said  the  maid.  "  I'll 
go  pring  him  some  soup." 

The  prisoner  calmly  said:  "Too  late  now; 
my  stomach  is  all  dried  up." 

"  Haven't  you  any  folks?  "  the  policeman 
asked. 

Harold  seemed  to  pause  for  thought.  "  I 
believe  I  have,  but  I  can't  think.  Mary  could 
tell  you." 

"  Who's  Mary?  " 

351 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

"  What's  that  to  you.  Bring  me  some  water 
— I'm  burning  dry/' 

"  Now  keep  quiet,"  said  the  policeman; 
"  you're  sick  as  a  horse." 

When  the  doctor  came  the  policeman  turned 
Harold  over  to  him.  "  This  is  a  case  for  St. 
Luke's  Hospital,  I  guess,"  he  said  as  he  went 
out. 

The  doctor  briskly  administered  a  narcotic  as 
being  the  easiest  and  simplest  way  to  handle  a 
patient  who  seemed  friendless  and  penniless. 
"  The  man  is  simply  delirious  with  fever.  He 
looks  like  a  man  emaciated  from  lack  of  food. 
What  do  you  know  about  him?  " 

The  landlord  confessed  he  knew  but  little. 

The  doctor  resumed:  "  Of  course  you  can't 
attend  to  him  here.  I'll  inform  the  hospital 
authorities  at  once.  Meanwhile,  communicate 
with  his  friends  if  you  can.  He'll  be  all  right 
for  the  present." 

This  valuable  man  was  hardly  gone  before  a 
lively  young  fellow  with  a  smoothly  shaven,  smil 
ing  face  slipped  in.  He  went  through  every 
pocket  of  Harold's  clothing,  and  found  a  torn 
envelope  with  the  name  "  Excell "  written  on  it, 
and  a  small  photo  of  a  little  girl  with  the  words, 
"  To  Mose  from  Cora."  The  young  man's  smile 
became  a  chuckle  as  he  saw  these  things,  and  he 
said  to  himself:  "  Nothing  here  to  identify  him, 
352 


A  Dark  Day  with  a  Glowing  Sunset 

eh?  "  Then  to  the  landlord  he  said:  "  I'm  from 
The  Star  office.  If  anything  new  turns  up  I  wish 
you'd  call  up  Harriman,  that's  me,  and  let  me  in 
on  it." 

The  hospital  authorities  were  not  informed, 
or  paid  no  attention  to  the  summons,  and 
Harold  was  left  to  the  care  of  the  chambermaid, 
who  did  her  poor  best  to  serve  him. 

The  Star  next  morning  contained  two  col 
umns  of  closely  printed  matter  under  the  cap 
tion,  "  Black  Mose,  the  Famous  Dead  Shot,  Dy 
ing  in  a  West  Side  Hotel.  After  Years  of  Ad 
venture  on  the  Trail,  the  Famous  Desperado 
Succumbs  to  Old  John  Barley  Corn."  The  arti 
cle  recounted  all  the  deeds  which  had  been  as 
cribed  to  Harold  and  added  a  few  entirely  new 
ones.  His  marvelous  skill  with  the  revolver 
was  referred  to,  and  his  defense  of  the  red  men 
and  others  in  distress  was  touched  upon  so  elo 
quently  that  the  dying  man  was  lifted  to  a  ro 
mantic  height  of  hardihood  and  gallantry.  A 
fancy  picture  of  him  took  nearly  a  quarter  of  a 
page  and  was  surrounded  by  a  corona  of  revol 
vers  each  spouting  flame. 

Mrs.  Raimon  seated  at  breakfast  in  the  lofty 
dining  room  of  her  hotel,  languidly  unfolded  The 
Star,  gave  one  glance,  and  opened  the  paper  so 
quickly  and  nervously  her  cup  and  saucer  fell  tc 
the  floor. 

353 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

"  My  God!  Can  that  be  true?  I  must  see 
him."  As  she  read  the  article  she  carried  on  a 
rapid  thinking.  "  How  can  I  find  him?  I  must 
see  that  reporter;  he  will  know."  She  was  a 
woman  of  decision.  She  arose  quickly  and  re 
turned  to  her  room.  "  Call  a  carriage  for  me, 
quick!  "  she  said  to  the  bell  boy  who  answered 
to  her  call.  "  No  name  is  given  to  the  hotel,  but 
The  Star  will  know.  Good  Heavens!  if  he 
should  die!  "  Her  florid  face  was  set  and  white 
as  she  took  her  seat  in  the  cab.  "  To  The  Star 
office — quick!  "  she  said  to  the  driver,  and  there 
was  command  in  the  slam  of  the  door. 

To  the  city  editor  she  abruptly  said:  "  I  want 
to  find  the  man  who  wrote  this  article  on  '  Black 
Mose.'  I  want  to  find  the  hotel  where  he  is." 

The  editor  was  enormously  interested  at 
once.  "  Harriman  is  on  the  night  force  and  at 
home  now,  but  I'll  see  what  I  can  do."  By 
punching  various  bells  and  speaking  into  mys 
teriously  ramifying  tubes  he  was  finally  able  to 
say:  "  The  man  is  at  a  little  hotel  just  across  the 
river.  I  think  it  is  called  the  St.  Nicholas.  It 
isn't  a  nice  place;  you'd  better  take  some  one 
with  you.  Mind  you,  I  don't  vouch  for  the 
truth  of  that  article;  the  boy  may  be  mistaken 
about  it." 

Mrs.  Raimon  turned  on  her  heel  and  van 
ished.  She  had  her  information  and  acted  upon 
354 


A  Dark  Day  with  a  Glowing  Sunset 

it.  She  was  never  finer  than  when  she  knelt  at 
Harold's  bedside  and  laid  her  hand  gently  on  his 
forehead.  She  could  not  speak  for  a  moment, 
and  when  her  eyes  cleared  of  their  tears  and  she 
felt  the  wide,  dry  eyes  of  the  man  searching  her, 
a  spasm  of  pain  contracted  her  heart. 

"  He  don't  know  me!  "  she  cried  to  the  slat 
ternly  maid,  who  stood  watching  the  scene  with 
deep  sympathy. 

Harold  spoke  petulantly:  "  Go  away  and  tell 
Mary  I  want  her.  It  costs  too  much  for  her  to 
sing,  or  else  she'd  come.  These  people  won't  let 
me  get  up,  but  Reynolds  will  be  here  soon  and 
then  something  will  rip  wide  open.  They  took 
my  guns  and  my  saddle.  If  I  had  old  Kintuck 
here  I  could  ride  to  Mary.  She  said  she'd  sing 
for  me  every  Sunday.  Look  here,  I  want  ice  on 
my  head.  This  pillow  has  been  heated.  I  don't 
want  a  hot  pillow — and  I  don't  want  my  arms 
covered.  Say,  I  wish  you'd  send  word  to  old 
Jack.  I  don't  know  where  he  is,  but  he'd  come 
— so  will  Reynolds.  These  policemen  will  have 
a  hot  time  keeping  me  here  after  they  come. 
It's  too  low  here,  I  must  take  Mary  away — it's 
healthier  in  the  mountains.  It  ain't  so  hot " 

Out  of  this  stream  of  loosely  uttered  words 
the  princess  caught  and  held  little  more  than 
the  names  "  Jack  "  and  "  Mary." 

"  Who  is  Jack?  "  she  softly  asked. 
355 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

Harold  laughed.  "  Don't  you  know  old 
freckle-faced  Jack?  Why,  I'd  know  Jack  in  the 
dark  of  a  cave.  He's  my  friend — my  old  chum. 
He  didn't  forget  me  when  they  sent  me  to  jail. 
Neither  did  Mary.  She  sung  for  me." 

"  Can't  you  tell  me  Mary's  name?  " 

"  Why,  it's  just  Mary,  Mary  Yardwell." 

"  Where  does  she  live?  " 

"  Oh,  don't  bother  me,"  he  replied  irritably. 
"  What  do  you  want  to  know  for?  " 

The  princess  softly  persisted,  and  he  said: 
"  She  lives  in  the  East.  In  Chicago.  It's  too 
far  off  to  find  her.  It  takes  five  days  to  get 
down  there  on  a  cattle  train,  and  then  you  have 
to  look  her  up  in  a  directory,  and  then  trail  her 
down.  I  couldn't  find  her." 

The  princess  took  down  Mary's  name  and 
sent  a  messenger  to  try  to  find  the  address  of 
this  woman  who  was  more  to  the  delirious  man 
than  all  the  rest  of  the  world. 

As  he  tossed  and  muttered  she  took  posses 
sion  of  the  house.  "  Is  this  the  worst  room  you 
have?  Get  the  best  bed  in  the  house  ready.  I 
want  this  man  to  have  the  cleanest  room  you 
have.  Hurry!  Telephone  to  the  Western  Pal 
ace  and  ask  Doctor  Sanborn  to  come  at  once — 
tell  him  Mrs.  Raimon  wants  him." 

Under  her  vigorous  action  one  of  the  larger 
rooms  was  cleared  out  and  made  ready,  and 

356 


A  Dark  Day  with  a  Glowing  Sunset 

when  the  doctor  came  Harold  was  moved,  under 
his  personal  supervision.  "  I  shall  stay  here  till 
he  is  out  of  danger,"  she  said  to  the  doctor  as 
he  was  leaving,  "  and  please  ask  my  maid  to  go 
out  and  get  some  clean  bed  linen  and  bring  it 
down  here  at  once — and  tell  her  to  send  Mr. 
Doris  here,  won't  you?  " 

The  doctor  promised  to  attend  to  these  mat 
ters  at  once. 

She  sat  by  the  bedside  of  the  sufferer  bathing 
his  hands  and  face  as  if  he  were  a  child,  talking  to 
him  gently  with  a  mother's  grave  cadences.  He 
was  now  too  weak  to  resist  any  command,  and 
took  his  medicine  at  a  gulp  like  a  young  robin. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  as  Mrs.  Raimon  re 
turned  from  an  errand  to  the  street  she  was 
amazed  to  find  a  tall  and  handsome  girl  sitting 
beside  the  sick  man's  bed  holding  his  two  cold 
white  hands  in  both  of  hers.  There  was  a  singu 
lar  and  thrilling  serenity  in  the  stranger's  face — 
a  composure  that  was  exaltation,  while  Harold, 
with  half-closed  eyelids,  lay  as  if  in  awe,  gazing 
up  into  the  woman's  face. 

Mrs.  Raimon  waited  until  Harold's  eyes 
closed  like  a  sleepy  child's  and  the  watcher  arose 
— then  she  drew  near  and  timidly  asked: 

"Are  you  Mary?" 

"  Yes,"  was  the  simple  reply. 
357 


The  Eagles  Heart 

The  elder  woman's  voice  trembled.  "  I  am 
glad  you've  come.  He  has  called  for  you  inces 
santly.  You  must  let  me  help  you — I  am  Mrs. 
Raimon,  of  Wagon  Wheel — I  knew  him  there." 

Mary  understood  the  woman's  humble  atti 
tude,  but  she  did  not  encourage  a  caress.  She 
coldly  replied:  "  I  shall  be  very  grateful.  He  is 
very  ill,  and  I  shall  not  leave  him  till  his  friends 
come." 

She  thought  immediately  of  Jack,  and  sent 
a  telegram  saying:  "  Harold  is  here  ill — come  at 
once."  She  did  not  know  where  to  reach  Mr. 
Excell,  so  could  only  wait  to  consult  Jack. 

Mrs.  Raimon  remained  with  her  and  was  so 
unobtrusively  ready  to  do  good  that  Mary's 
heart  softened  toward  her  —  though  she  did 
not  like  her  florid  beauty  and  her  display  of 
jewels. 

A  telegram  from  Jack  came  during  the  even 
ing:  "  Do  all  you  can  for  Harold.  Will  reach 
him  to-night." 

He  came  in  at  eleven  o'clock,  his  face  knotted 
into  anxious  lines.  They  smoothed  out  as  his 
eyes  fell  upon  Mary,  who  met  him  in  the  hall. 

"  Oh,  I'm  glad  to  see  you  here,"  he  said 
brokenly.  "  How  is  he — is  there  any  hope?  " 

In  his  presence  Mary's  composure  gave  way. 

"O  Jack!  If  he  should  die  now "  She 

laid  her  head  against  his  sturdy  shoulder  and  for 
358 


A  Dark  Day  with  a  Glowing  Sunset 

a  moment  shook  with  nervous  weakness.  Al 
most  before  he  could  speak  she  recovered  herself. 
"  He  only  knew  me  for  a  few  moments.  He's 
delirious  again.  The  doctor  is  with  him — oh,  I 
can't  bear  to  hear  him  rave!  It  is  awful!  He 
calls  for  me,  and  yet  does  not  know  me.  O 
Jack,  it  makes  my  heart  ache  so,  he  is  so  weak! 
He  came  to  see  me — and  then  went  away — I 
didn't  know  where  he  had  gone.  And  all  the 
time  he  was  starving  here.  O  God!  It  would 
be  too  dreadful — if  he  should  die!  " 

"  We  won't  let  him  die!  "  he  stoutly  replied. 
"  I'm  going  in  to  see  him." 

Together  they  went  in.  The  doctor,  intent 
ly  studying  his  patient,  sat  motionless  and  silent. 
He  was  a  young  man  with  a  serious  face,  but  his 
movements  were  quick,  silent,  and  full  of  deci 
sion.  He  looked  up  and  made  a  motion,  stop 
ping  them  where  they  were. 

Out  of  a  low  mutter  at  last  Harold's  words 
grew  distinct:  "  I  don't  care — but  the  water  is 
cold  as  ice — I  wouldn't  put  a  cayuse  into  it — let 
alone  Kintuck.  Should  be  a  bridge  here  some 
where." 

"Oh,  he's  on  the  trail  again!"  said  Mary. 
"  Harold,  don't  you  know  me?  "  She  bent  over 
to  him  again  and  put  forth  the  utmost  intensity 
of  her  will  to  recall  him.  "  I  am  here,  Harold, 
don't  you  see  me?  " 

359 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

His  head  ceased  to  roll  and  he  looked  at  her 
with  eyes  that  made  her  heart  grow  sick — then  a 
slow,  faint  smile  came  to  his  lips.  "  Yes — I 
know  you,  Mary — but  the  river  is  between  us, 
and  it's  swift  and  cold,  and  Kintuck  is  thin  and 
hungry — I  can't  cross  now!  " 

"  Doctor,"  said  Jack,  as  the  physician  was 
leaving,  "  what  are  the  chances?  " 

The  doctor's  voice  carried  conviction:  "  Oh, 
he'll  pull  through — he  has  one  of  the  finest 
bodies  I  ever  saw."  He  smiled.  "  He'll  cross 
the  river  all  right — and  land  on  our  side." 

Two  days  later  Mr.  Excell,  big  and  brown, 
his  brow  also  knotted  with  anxiety,  entered 
the  room,  and  fell  on  his  knees  and  threw  his 
long  arm  over  the  helpless  figure  beneath  the 
coverlet.  "Harry!  My  boy,  do  you  know 
me?" 

Harold  looked  up  at  him  with  big  staring 
eyes  and  slowly  put  out  his  hand.  "  Sure  thing! 
And  I'm  not  dead  yet,  father.  I'll  soon  be  all 
right.  I've  got  Mary  with  me.  She  can  cure 
me — if  the  doctor  can't." 

He  spoke  slowly,  but  there  was  will  behind 
the  voice.  His  wasted  face  had  a  gentleness 
that  was  most  moving  to  the  father.  He  could 
not  look  at  the  pitiful  wreck  of  his  once  proud 
and  fearless  boy  without  weeping,  and  being 
mindful  of  Harold's  prejudice  against  sentiment, 
360 


A  Dark  Day  with  a  Glowing  Sunset 

he  left  the  room  to  regain  his  composure.  To 
Mary  Mr.  Excell  said:  "  I  don't  know  you — 
but  you  are  a  noble  woman.  I  give  you  a 
father's  gratitude.  Won't  you  tell  me  who 
you  are?  " 

"  I  am  Mary  Yardwell,"  she  replied  in  her 
peculiarly  succinct  speech.  "  My  home  was  in 
Marmion,  but  I  attended  school  in  your  village. 
I  sang  in  your  church  for  a  little  while." 

His  face  lighted  up.  "  I  remember  you — a 
pale,  serious  little  girl.  Did  you  know  my  son 
there?" 

She  looked  away  for  a  moment.  "  I  sang  for 
him — when  he  was  in  jail,"  she  replied.  "  I  be 
longed  to  the  Rescue  Band." 

A  shadow  fell  again  upon  the  father's  face. 

"  I  did  not  know  it,"  he  said,  feeling  some 
thing  mysterious  here — something  which  lay 
outside  his  grasp.  "  Have  you  seen  him  mean 
while?  I  suppose  you  must  have  done  so." 

"  Once,  in  Marmion,  some  four  years  ago." 

"Ah!  Now  I  understand  his  visit  to  Mar 
mion,"  said  Mr.  Excell,  with  a  sudden  smile.  "  I 
thought  he  came  to  see  Jack  and  me.  He  really 
came  to  see  you.  Am  I  right?  " 

'  Yes,"  she  replied.  "  He  wanted  me  to  go 
back  with  him,  but  I — I — couldn't  do  so." 

"  I  know— I  know,"  he  replied  hastily.    "  He 
had  no  right  to  ask  it  of  you — poor  boy." 
361 


The  Eagles  Heart 

"  It  seems  now  as  though  I  had  no  right  to 
refuse.  I  might  have  helped  him.  If  he  should 
die  now  there  would  be  an  incurable  ache  here  " 
— she  lifted  her  hand  to  her  throat;  "  so  long  as 
I  lived  I  should  not  forgive  myself." 


362 


CHAPTER   XXI 

CONCLUSION 

As  he  crawled  slowly  back  to  life  and  clear 
thinking,  Harold's  wild  heart  was  rilled  with  a 
peace  and  serenity  of  emotion  such  as  it  had  not 
known  since  childhood.  He  was  like  a  boy  in  a 
careless  dream,  forecasting  nothing,  remember 
ing  nothing,  content  to  see  Mary  come  and  go 
about  the  room,  glad  of  the  sound  of  her  skirts, 
thrilling  under  the  gentle  pressure  of  her  hand. 

She,  on  her  part,  could  not  realize  any  part 
of  his  dark  fame  as  she  smiled  down  into  his  big 
yellow-brown  eyes  which  were  as  pathetic  and 
wistful  as  those  of  a  gentle  animal. 

Mrs.  Raimon  spoke  of  this.  "  I  saw  '  Black 
Mose '  as  he  stood  in  the  streets  of  Wagon 
Wheel,  the  most  famous  dead-shot  in  the  State. 
I  can't  realize  that  this  is  the  same  man.  He's 
gentle  as  a  babe  now;  he  was  as  terrible  and  as 
beautiful  as  a  tiger  then." 

Reynolds  sent  fifty  dollars  with  an  apology 
for  the  delay  and  Mr.  Excell  offered  his  slender 
purse,  but  Mrs.  Raimon  said:  "  I'll  attend  to 
24  363 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

this  matter  of  expense.  Let  me  do  that  little 
for  him — please!  "  And  he  gave  way,  knowing 
her  great  wealth. 

But  all  these  things  began  at  last  to  trouble 
the  proud  heart  of  the  sick  man,  and  as  he  grew 
stronger  his  hours  of  quiet  joy  began  to  be 
broken  by  disquieting  calculations  of  his  in 
debtedness  to  Mrs.  Raimon  as  well  as  to  Mary 
and  Jack.  He  wished  to  be  free  of  all  obliga 
tions,  even  gratitude.  He  insisted  on  his  fa 
ther's  return  to  his  pastorate — which  he  did  at 
the  end  of  the  week. 

Meanwhile  Mary  and  Jack  conspired  for  the 
Eagle's  good.  Together  they  planned  to  re 
move  him  to  some  fairer  quarter  of  the  city.  To 
gether  they  read  and  discussed  the  letters  which 
poured  in  upon  them  from  theatrical  managers, 
Wild  West  shows,  music  halls,  and  other  similar 
enterprises,  and  from  romantic  girls  and  shrewd 
photographers,  and  every  other  conceivable  kind 
of  crank.  The  offers  of  the  music  halls  Jack  was 
inclined  to  consider  worth  while.  "  He'd  be  a 
great  success  there,  or  as  a  dead-shot  in  a  Wild 
West  show.  They  pay  pretty  well,  too." 

"  I  don't  believe  he'd  care  to  do  anything  like 
that,"  Mary  quietly  replied. 

They  both  found  that  he  cared  to  do  nothing 
which  involved  his  remaining  in  the  East.  As 
his  eyes  grew  brighter,  his  longing  for  the  West 
364 


Conclusion 

came  back.  He  lifted  his  arms  above  his  quilts 
with  the  action  of  the  eaglet  who  meditates  leap 
ing  from  the  home  ledge.  It  was  a  sorrowful 
thing  to  see  this  powerful  young  animal  made 
thin  and  white  and  weak  by  fever,  but  his  spirit 
was  indomitable. 

"  He  must  be  moved  to  the  West  before  he 
will  fully  recover,"  said  the  doctor,  and  to  this 
Mrs.  Raimon  replied: 

"  Very  well,  doctor.  You  name  the  day 
when  it  is  safe  and  we'll  go.  I'll  have  a  special 
car,  if  necessary,  but  first  of  all  he  must  go  to  a 
good  hotel.  Can't  he  be  moved  now?  " 

Outwardly  Mary  acknowledged  all  the  kind 
ness  of  this  rich  and  powerful  woman,  but  in 
wardly  she  resented  her  intimacy.  Drawing  all 
her  little  store  of  ready  money  she  quietly  began 
paying  off  the  bills.  When  all  was  settled  she 
took  a  seat  beside  Harold  one  day  when  they 
were  alone  and  laying  one  strong,  warm  hand  on 
his  thin,  white  arm,  she  said: 

"  Harold,  the  doctor  says  you  can  be  moved 
from  here,  and  so — you  must  give  me  the  right 
to  take  you  home  with  me." 

There  was  a  piercing  pathos  in  his  wan  smile 
as  he  replied,  "  All  right,  you're  the  boss.  It's 
a  pretty  hard  come  down,  though.  I  thought 
once  I'd  come  back  after  you  in  a  private  car.  If 
you  stand  by  me  I  may  be  a  cattle  king  yet. 
365 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

There's  a  whole  lot  of  fight  in  me  still — you 
watch  me  and  see." 

The  next  day  he  was  moved  to  a  private  hotel 
on  the  north  side,  and  Mary  breathed  a  sigh  of 
deep  relief  as  she  saw  him  sink  back  into  his  soft 
bed  in  a  clean  and  sunny  room.  He,  with  a 
touch  of  his  old  fire,  said:  "This  sure  beats  a 
holler  log,  but  all  the  same  I'll  be  glad  to  see  the 
time  when  I  can  camp  on  my  saddle  again." 

Mary  only  smiled  and  patted  him  like  a 
mother  caressing  a  babe.  "  I'll  hate  to  have  you 
go  and  leave  me — now." 

"  No  danger  of  that,  Mary.  We  camp  down 
on  the  same  blanket  from  this  on." 

Mr.  Excell  came  on  to  marry  them,  but  Jack 
sent  his  best  wishes  by  mail;  he  could  not  quite 
bring  himself  to  see  Mary  give  herself  away — 
even  to  his  hero. 

Mrs.  Raimon  took  her  defeat  with  most 
touching  grace.  "  You're  right,"  she  said. 
"  He's  yours — I  know  that  perfectly  well,  but 
you  must  let  me  help  him  to  make  a  start.  It 
won't  hurt  him,  and  it'll  please  me.  I  have  a 
ranch,  I  have  mines,  I  could  give  him  something 
to  do  till  he  got  on  his  feet  again,  if  you'd  let 
me,  and  I  hope  you  won't  deny  me  a  pleasure 
that  will  carry  no  obligation  with  it." 

She  was  powerfully  moved  as  she  went  in  to 
say  good-by  to  him.  He  was  sitting  in  a  chair. 


Conclusion 

but  looked  very  pale  and  weak.  She  said: 
"  Mose,  you're  in  luck;  you've  got  a  woman 
who'll  do  you  good.  She's  loyal  and  she's 
strong,  and  there's  nothing  further  for  me  to  do 
— unless  you  let  me  help  you.  See  here,  why 
not  let  me  help  you  get  a  start;  what  do  you 
say?  " 

Harold  felt  the  deep  sincerity  of  the  woman's 
regard  and  he  said  simply: 

"  All  right;  let  me  know  what  you  find,  and 
I'll  talk  it  over  with  Mary." 

She  seized  his  thin  hand  in  both  hers  and 
pressed  it  hard,  the  tears  creeping  down  her 
cheeks.  "  You're  a  good  boy,  Mose;  you're  the 
kind  that  are  good  to  women  in  ways  they  don't 
like,  sometimes.  I  hope  you'll  forget  the  worst 
of  me  and  remember  only  the  best.  I  don't 
think  she  knows  anything  about  me;  if  she  hears 
anything,  tell  her  the  truth,  but  say  I  was  better 
than  women  think." 

One  day  about  ten  days  later  a  bulky  letter 
came,  addressed  to  "  Mose  Excell."  It  was  from 
Mrs.  Raimon,  but  contained  a  letter  from  Rey 
nolds,  who  wrote: 

"  Yesterday  a  young  Cheyenne  came  ridin'  in 
here  inquirin'  for  you.  I  told  him  you  was  in 
Chicago,  sick.  He  brought  a  message  from  old 
Talfeather  who  is  gettin'  scared  about  the  cattle- 

367 


The  Eagle's  Heart 

men.  He  says  they're  crowdin'  onto  his  reser 
vation,  and  he  wants  you  to  come  and  help  him. 
He  wants  you  to  talk  with  them  and  to  go  to 
Washington  and  see  the  Great  Father.  He  sent 
this  medicine  and  said  it  was  to  draw  you  to  him. 
He  said  he  was  blind  and  his  heart  was  heavy 
because  he  feared  trouble.  I  went  up  to  Wagon 
Wheel  and  saw  the  princess,  who  has  a  big  pull. 
She  said  she'd  write  you.  Kintuck  is  well  but 
getting  lazy." 

Mrs.  Raimon  wrote  excitedly: 

"  DEAR  FRIEND:  Here  is  work  for  you  to  do. 
The  agent  at  Sand  Lake  has  asked  to  be  relieved 
and  I  have  written  Senator  Miller  to  have  you 
appointed.  He  thought  the  idea  excellent.  We 
both  believe  your  presence  will  quiet  the  cattle 
men  as  well  as  Talfeather  and  his  band.  Will 
you  accept?  " 

As  Harold  read,  his  body  uplifted  and  his 
eyes  grew  stern.  "  See  here,  Mary,  what  do 
you  think  of  this?  "  and  he  read  the  letter  and 
explained  the  situation.  She,  too,  became  tense 
with  interest,  but,  being  a  woman  who  thought 
before  she  spoke,  she  remained  silent. 

Harold,  after  a  moment,  arose  from  his  chair, 

gaunt  and  unsteady  as  he  was.      '  That's  what 

I'm  fitted  for,  Mary.     That  solves  my  problem. 

I  know  these  cattlemen,  they  know  me.     I  am 

368 


Conclusion 

the  white  chief  of  Talfeather's  people.  If  you 
can  stand  it  to  live  there  with  me,  Mary,  I  will 
go.  We  can  do  good;  the  women  need  some 
one  like  you  to  teach  'em  to  do  things." 

Mary's  altruistic  nature  began  to  glow. 
"  Do  you  think  so,  Harold?  Could  I  be  of 
use?  " 

"  Of  use?  Why,  Mary,  those  poor  squaws 
and  their  children  need  you  worse  than  they  need 
a  God.  I  know,  for  I've  lived  among  'em." 

"  Then  I  will  go,"  she  said,  and  out  of  the 
gray  cloud  the  sun  broke  and  shone  from  the 
west  across  the  great  lonely  plains. 

Again  "  Black  Mose  "  rode  up  the  almost 
invisible  ascent  toward  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
Again  he  saw  the  mighty  snow  peaks  loom  over 
the  faintly  green  swells  of  the  plain,  but  this  time 
he  left  nothing  behind.  The  aching  hunger  was 
gone  out  of  his  heart  for  beside  him  Mary  sat, 
eager  as  he  to  see  the  wondrous  mountain  land 
whose  trails  to  her  were  script  of  epic  tales,  and 
whose  peaks  were  monuments  to  great  dead 
beasts  and  mysterious  peoples  long  since  swept 
away  by  the  ruthless  march  of  the  white  men. 

If  she  had  doubts  or  hesitations  she  con 
cealed  them,  for  hers  was  a  nature  fitted  for  such 
sacrifice  as  this — and  besides,  each  day  increased 
her  love  for  the  singular  and  daring  soul  of 
Harold  Excell. 


iTORED  AT  NRLF 


THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SANTA  CRUZ 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  DATE  stamped  below. 


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